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1 

2 

3 

1 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and  ISO  TESl  CHART  No    2 


.0 


I.I 


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1       ^-^ 

::  3  2 

1    2.2 

4 

2.0 

u. 

1.25 


1.4 


_^  APPLIED   IKA^GE     Inc 

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=■  (716)   288  -  5989  -  Toi. 


1 


THE  GLORY  AND 
THE  DREAM 


BY 


AXXA  PRESTON 

ArnioK  OK  "Tin:   I{im,iii,  ui    a  Silknt  V.\\\\ 


'Where  Is  it  now.  the  gloiy  and  the  dream?' 

— Wouoiuoiirn 


NEW   YORK 

B.  W.  IIUEBSCH 

MCMXV 


M. 


2  9  0  i  1)  5 


ropyrifrht,  1015,  by 

r..  \v.  iiT'ii'.scii 

rrint.  .1  in  T.  S,  A. 


CONTENTS 


i 


■s 

i 


(MiM 


CII  M'TI'U 

I  'I'm:  Ciiii:  \T  Cnknown    . 

11  'i'iii:   \i:\v  C'oi'NTHY   . 

in  'I'm    Hi  iii:i.'s  I  lorsE  . 

ly  'I'm;    I'iM-cM  II    I  .   Ti:i:    Hmin 

V  "A  TiMii.Ti  m  \   Vni\  \i  V  oi    St 

Vl  N'lr.DKit'N  .MoTiiiMi 

^'I^  Tm;  1' AiHv  lioNi)  . 

\'III  Cmil^TMAs 

IX  Tm:   Diiivn  to  Town- 

X  Oi.i)  C'oi.yi  iior.v   . 

XI  Tm:  ']"()!•(  AN   . 

XII  Tm:  MiitDKi!  oi-  Mu.  Mi 

XIII  Mn.  .Iwi:   Dovi:    .... 

XIV  "MoxAiuii  1)1-  Ai.L  1  SntvKY 

XV  n.uxN 

XVI  C'i.i:\iti:[) 

X\  1 1  "Tm:  Si:.\<K  of  Tkaks  in  .Moutal  Tiun(;s 


STF.EI) 


I'AOK 

I 

r.t 

r>r> 

8(1 
!()(') 

I J I 
1  i;i 

158 
171) 
181 
I'.tl 
'208 
•22  I 
237 


THE  GLORY  AND  TIIP: 
DREAM 

CIIArTER  I 

THE   GREAT    UNKNOWN 

^NricriAEi,  had  spent  six  joyful  years  in  eagerly, 
curiously,  making'  llie  aeijuaintance  of  the 
world  into  which  he  luul  conic,  l)cfore  he  found 
a  hint  of  sadness  in  it.  On  the  contrary,  he 
found  it  such  a  heautiful  and  happy  place  that 
lie  '.•Tiidned  ever  to  close  his  eyes,  and  would 
vigorously  demand  an  instant  release  from 
his  cril)  at  the  first  break  of  dawn.  Meadows 
full  of  danij)  grass,  where  he  was  always  find- 
ing a  fresh  sjxjf  to  he  happy  in:  a  brook  where 
he  wanted  to  go  on  and  on  i)laying,  alwiiys, 
and  never  stop;  the  monastery  garden,  steeped 
in  a  mysterious  sweetness  and  (piiet,  full  of 


« 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

monks  who  were  all  alike,  into  which  he  some- 
times strayed:  a  mother  who  was  sometimes 
very  much  in  the  way,  when  she  made  him  come 
in  to  nieals,  or  washed  him,  or  put  him  to  hed, 
just  as  lie  was  runnin*,^  to  do  some  delightful 
tliino-  that  had  come  into  his  head,  and  whom 
he  sometimes  hufjfoecl  and  hufi-ned,  yet  couldn't 
hu<r  enough:  these  were  a  few  of  the  good 
things  that  filled  up  his  little  life. 

He  knew,  vaguely,  that  this  wasn't  every- 
thing: that  there  was  something  very  big  and 
solemn  above  and  beyond,  and  that  he  must 
feel  solenm  every  night  wlien  he  said  his 
prayers,  no  matter  how  many  other  things  he 
might  have  to  think  about.  Although  he  lived 
in  Claddagh,  where  everybody  about  him 
spoke  the  Irish  tongue,  his  parents  spoke  Eng- 
lish sometimes:  hut  he  was  better  pleased  when 
they  spoke  Irish.  His  mother  taught  him 
the  little  i)rayer  that  English-speaking  chil- 
dren say.  and  a  strange  huslied  feeling  always 
came  over  him  at  the  thought  of  the  soul 
folded  up  inside  of  him,  which  he  prayed  the 

Lord  to  keep.     And  at  the  words: — 

o 


THE  gri:at  unknown 


"And  if  I  die  before  I  wake 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  sovd  to  take," 

a  momentary  chill  would  pass  over  him  at 
tlie  Ihought  that  he  mi/^ht  die  before  he  opened 
his  eyes  on  the  delightful  world  again.  But 
then,  he  wouldn't.  He  always  wt)ke  up  all 
ri'dit.  JJut  he  luid  a  pieluie  in  his  mind  of 
the  soul  1"  'ig  taken — a  l)rown,  folded,  passive 
thing.  The  Irish  word,  aiiam .  gave  him  a  very 
different  idea.  It  made  him  think  of  some- 
thing vague  and  hhiek,  that  tilled  up  a  person's 
whole  hiside.  But  he  really  thought  very  little 
about  it.  These  ideas  were  merely  images 
that  the  words  imi)rinted  on  his  mind,  without 
any  thought  on  his  part. 

But  there  came  a  time  when  his  mother  was 
ill,  and  his  father  told  him  he  mustn't  run 
into  her  room  and  disturb  her.  lie  knew  from 
his  father's  tone  that  it  woidd  be  very  dreadful 
to  do  tliat,  and  he  meant  to  obey,  but  once  he 
got  wildly  excited  chasing  the  eat,  and  first 
thing  he  knew  lu  was  running  after  it  into 
her  room,  shouting: — "Vou  thief!  You 
thief!"     Then  a  languid  voice  from  the  bed, 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREA.M 

savin^j: — "What  lias  lie  stolen?"  suddenly 
l)i'on,i;lit  l)aek  his  father's  command,  and  he 
hiuu^-  his  head,  o\  eieome  with  shame,  and  would 
hardly  answer  the  (juestion.  His  mother  was 
not  anuTV — she  onlv  explained,  kindly  and 
i)atientlv,  that  vou  neyer  called  an\'hody  a  thief 
unless  he  had  stolen  something',  and  this  made 
^Michael  more  deeply  ashamed  than  any  re- 
proof  could  haye  done.  lie  never  for^^ot 
again. 

At  first  his  mother's  illness  made  no  difl'er- 
encc  to  hiu),  except  for  this  incident;  his  joy- 
ful life  Avas  not  touched  or  disturhed.  He 
])Iayed  i!i  the  meadow  and  the  hrook  just  the 
same,  the  smell  of  wet  grass  and  steaming 
earth  filled  him  with  the  same  wild  delight, 
and  made  him  want  to  run  and  run,  as  if  he 
could  neyer  he  still  again.  He  continued  to 
watch  and  listen  everywhere  for  fairies,  filled 
with  the  hope  that  he  would  find  them  in  the 
next  clump  of  grass  or  Aveeds  he  investigated. 
But  after  a  while  his  aunts  Ivg.m  to  come  very 
often,  and  they  were  crying  whenever  he  saw 
them,  and  his  father  was  silent  and  sorrowful: 


THE  GREAT  UNKNOWX 

and  then,  although  ^Michael  still  did  all  these 
things,  the  wanntli  and  sunshine  seemed  to  go 
out  of  them.  His  motlier  wanted  him  to  eome 
in  and  see  her  every  day,  and  cuddled  liini  up 
close  to  her;  but  one  morning  when  he  was 
brought  hi,  and  climbed  on  tlie  bed  to  ling  her, 
she  didn't  hug  l)aek,  and  although  she  spoke 
to  him,  and  called  liim  a  chuislin  mo  chroidhr, 
it  wasn't  like  having  her  speak  to  him  at  all. 
He  burst  out  crying,  for  he  knew  something 
very  dreadful  was  coming,  though  he  had  no 
idea  what  it  was.  Next  morning  his  father 
took  him  in  his  arms  and  told  him  she  was 
dead. 

Michael  broke  into  a  loud  howl,  not  because 
he  wanted  to  cry,  but  because  it  was  so  strange 
and  sudden,  so  utterly  outside  his  range  of  ex- 
perience that  he  could  not  even  attempt  to 
understand  it,  and  he  wanted  to  drown  out  all 
sensation  in  the  physical  exercise  of  making  a 
noise.  After  that,  the  bright,  fresh  world  was 
completely  blotted  out  by  the  blackness  that 
enveloped  everything.  Crowds  of  ])eople  in 
black  clothes  filled  the  house,  and  in  the  night 

5 


THE  GLOIIV  AND  TIIF.  DUKAM 


there    -were    siieli    awful    eryiii<^    noises    tluil 
Michael  could  not  ^()  lo  slcip,  liut  sat  up  in 
his  cril),  shivering  witli  horror,  and  thinking 
ahout  all  the  strange  things  his  aunts  had  said 
to  him  tliat  day.      Tliey  had  told  liini  an  angel 
had  come  and  taken  his  moUier's  soul  away, 
and  he  had  said:— •' Why  didn't  you  tell  me 
when   it  eame^     I    woidd  have   frightened   it 
awav!"'     Thev  had  told  him  that  nol)ody  could 
frighten  away  the  deaih  angel,  hut   Michael 
insisted  that  he  would  have  I'ouglit  with  it  till 
it  Hew  away.     Then  they  tokl  him.  so  solemnly 
that  he  knew  it  must  be  true,  that  nobody  had 
ever  done  that,  and  the  death  angel  came  to 
everybody.     Thus  ^liehael  learned  that  every- 
body had  to  die,  and  he  thought  of  it  now  with 
])assionate  rebellion.     lie  didn't  want  to  die 
that  way,  and  have  everybody  turn  black  and 
make  hideous  noises  because  he  died.     If  he 
had  to  die  ilud  wav.  he  would  rather  the  stork 
liad  never  bi-ought  him  at  ;dl.     Tie  made  u})  his 
mind  he  v/ould  die  as  a  patriot  lighting  the 
Sacsanaigh.  or  be  a  fisherman  and  get  drowned. 
Then  he  tliought  of  the  death  angel  taking  his 


THE  Giii:.\r  rNKNOwN 


I 


motlicr's  soul  l>)  a  plucc  called  Turo-atory,  to 
l,c  burned  lor  a  hm^^  lime  before  it  was  taken 
to    Heaven,   wbere   every   one   was   perfectly 
happy.     This     -is   what   happened   to  every- 
body's   soul.     Tired    out    at    last    with    these 
thoui>hts,   Michael   lay   down  and  fell   asleep 
with  that  awful  cryin-'  in  his  ears,  and  pres- 
ently he  had  a  vivid  impression  that  he  was  in 
his  mother's   room,  and   three  women   all   in 
black   were   hidden   behind    the   curtain,    and 
were  peering-  out  at  him,  craning  long  black 
necks  and   showing  the  whites  of   eyes  that 
stared    unbearal)ly    out    of    black    faces.     He 
sercamcd,  and  when  his  father  came  in,  kept 
rei)eating  something,  over  and  over,  about  the 
IJnee  black   friends  behind   the   curtain,   and 
c.uld  not  be  persuaded  that  it  was  a  dream. 
His  father  stayed  with  him  and  soothed  him, 
and  presently  Michael  told  him  what  his  aunts 
had  said  about  the  death  angel  taking  away 
his  mother's  soul  to  Turgatory.     His  father 
was    silent    for    a    moment,    then    he    said:— 
'•Michael,  your  aunts  know  no  more  about  it 
than  vou  do  yourself." 


TIIK  Cl.OIiV  AM)  Tin:   DKKAM 


"But  tlicv  saw  the  (kath  au^vl  come!"  said 
^licluK,],  Iiis  \()ice  .soft  and  hushed  witli  awe. 

"'i'h(  y  (hdii't  see  it — uohody  e\er  does,  and 
uoh()('y  kuows  A\iiere  it  takes  i)eoi)le's  souls. 
Hut  I  think — \vhen  a  woman  lias  heen  as  good 
as  you!'  mother  ^vas,  Michael — that  sh.e  may 
surely  he  taken  strai^'ht  to  Heaven."  His 
fatlier's  voice  was  choked  with  tears. 

"Is  Heaven  a  ha[)[)ier  place  than  the  world?" 
asked  Michael. 

"Ever  so  much."  his  father  replied  decidedly. 

jMichael  la\-  silentlv  thinkiufr  for  a  lonn'  time 
after  tliat.  He  could  not  imagine  how  Heaven 
could  possihly  he  a  much  ha})i)icr  place  than 
the  world.  He  concluded  at  last  that  it  mi^ht 
he,  if  the  liii^'  g'olden  sounds  went  on  all  the 
time  thei'e  and  never  stoi)i)ed.  The  hin-  golden 
sounds  were  the  music  of  his  father's  harp. 

Xext  morning  the  house  was  all  darkened, 
and  at  hreakfast  ^Michael  heard  the  favourite 
h.orsc  whinnying  outside  the  shutters;  his  ])lacc 
at  tlie  tal)lc  was  right  in  front  of  tlie  window, 
and  tl.is  hoi'se  had  heen  accustomed  to  })oke 
his  head  in  and  lie  fed  generously  with  morsels 

8 


Tin:  CRl.AT  T-NKXOWX 


tVdin  Micliacls  own  ln-calJast.  lUit  nothing 
liMppencd  in  the  natural  way  tlii^  morning. 
An  aunt  ^vitll  tousled  hair  and  red,  tcar-suollon 
lat'c  sat  in  his  mother's  place,  anil  this  sight, 
together  with  the  general  atmosi)here  ol'  tears, 
and  'he  darkness  of  the  room,  made  it  impos- 
sil)le  for  him  to  eat  his  hreakl'ast. 

It  was  this  same  aunt  who  gave  Miehaei  his 
11 1st  pang  of  ival  grief,  lie  came  into  the 
kitehen  and  found  her  there,  with  his  mother's 
pink  apron  on.  lie  hurst  into  the  first  actual 
tears  he  had  shed,  rushed  outside,  and  stood 
sohhinu'  there.  His  aunt  came  out  to  com- 
fort  him,  hut  he  ran  away  from  her.  He 
could  not  l)eai-  to  he  cuddled  up  to  that  apron, 
7i(Ac.  He  felt  as  if  she  had  hurt  him  all 
ihiough,  and  he  could  not  hear  to  he  touched 
by  her. 

All  day  he  wandered  about  alone,  wet  re- 
peatedlv  bv  soft  Inirsts  of  rain  and  warmed  bv 
the  lleeting  sunshine.  The  crowds  of  peo])le 
in  black  went  away  in  a  prc^cession,  his  father 
among  them,  and  Michael  thought  Mith  relief 
that  this  awful  blackness  had  passed  off  for 

9 


TiU:  GLOilV   AM)    Till:   DUKAM 

<;-ooil,  aiul  tliiii;;-s  would  .i^o  on  in  the  natural 
happy  way  a^ain.  Hut  he  (li(hri  IVd  like  ,uo- 
iii;^'  hack  to  iii^  act'UstonK'd  [)lays  just  yet;  his 
niind  was  loo  full  o['  vvondrr.  The  inystcry  of 
the  death  an-^el  liUed  it.  He  eouldn't  help 
thinkin,^-  he  eould  have  driven  the  death  annuel 
away  if  he  had  htcn  there.  He  would  just 
have  fou.uht  and  fought  till  it  had  to  fly  away. 
That  wouldn't  l)e  any  harder  than  killin<?  a 
lion.  And  yet.  all  his  aunts  were  there,  and 
they  couldn't  drive  it  away— they  couldn't  even 

see  it. 

Then,  as  tlie  sun  was  f?c'ttinn-  low  and  niak- 
hig-  the  ,urass  look  odden,  and  it  was  hc-ninning 
to  occur  to  Michael  with  all  the  old  delight 
that  he  niiu'ht  find  a  fairy  any  moment,  the 
black  procession  came  hack.  The  aunt  who 
had  worn  his  mother's  apron  called  him  in,  and 
washed  him  and  dressed  him  in  clean,  dry 
clothes,  and  1)r()U.L>ht  him  into  the  dining  room, 
where  all  the  peoi)le  in  hlaek  were  assembled. 
Tbcy  were  done  crying-  now.  They  ate  and 
ate  and  ate,  till  Michael  was  so  tired  he  thought 

10 


THE  (JHKA'l'  rNKNOWN 


•ill 


jliulit 


lie  couldn't  sit  still  and  l)i'  ^ood  any  lon/^^cr. 
Hill  v\vY\  time  he  kicked  and  wrin'^lcd  lie  was 
sternlx'  1iiis1k(1  by  his  aunts,  lie  l()t)ke(l  for 
tile  tiiree  hlac'k  friends,  hut  e;.uld  not  see  them. 
He  wondered  if  lliey  were  still  in  his  mother's 
room,  hiding'  hehiiid  the  enrtain,  waiting'  for 
him  to  come  in,  that  they  mi^ht  crane  their 
awful  necks,  and  peer  at  him.  He  wouldn't 
^(),  he  iHsohed  defiantly. 

The  chaii*  L>rew  harder  and  harder,  the  si^ht 
of  this  solemn  continuous  eating'  more  intoler- 
ai)li  ,  and  he  s(|uij'med  and  fumed  in  spite  of  all 
his  aunts'  daik  l()oks  and  ^v■hispers.  At  last 
lii.s  father,  who  did  not  ^o  on  e.'i'inu-  like  the 
rest,  sat  hack  in  his  chaii-  and  called  to  him. 
JMicluu  1  I'an  to  him  gladly,  climhed  on  his  knee 
and  fell  asleej)  in  il\e  minutes. 

I'orhinately  there  was  soon  great  fun,  to 
hiiry,  though  not  to  elface,  the  memory  of  this 
black  time,  ^liehael  leai'nc d  that  he  and  his 
father  Mere  going  away  across  the  sea  in 
a  ship,  to  a  new  country,  wliere  they  were  to 
live  all  by  themsehes.     The  horse  who  poked 

11 


Tin:  (.LoHV  AM)  Tin:  niiKAM 

his  head  in  Uk  wliidnw  was  comiii^^  witli  Ihcm, 
also  the  harp,  and  a   iVw  houks,  l.til  nothing 

else. 

•rill  so  ^L;lad  we're  i,^oin<^  away  from  tliis 
liouse!"  eried  Michael.  "We'll  leave  the  three 
hhuk  friends  l)ehind,  and  IheyU  crane  and 
erane  their  necks"  (he  did  lils  hest  to  illustrate 
their  eerie  motion  i  "and  keip  peepin.n'  out  I'or 
me,  and  I  woiTt  'ne  here!"  MiehaeKs  sweet 
voice  was  lull  of  ,<Alee."ul,  misehievoiis  triumph, 
and  he  danced  for  joy. 

There  were  days  of   fun   after  that,   when 
all  sorts  of  delii'-htful  Ihiui^s  wrre  rumnia,L'-ed 
out  of  dark  corners.     There  were  two  j^rcat 
wreaths  of  i)aper  rosr;.  'lie  white  and  one  red. 
which  .Michael  went  ahnut  hoidin.i^'  up  on  a  level 
^vith  his  head,   iniai^ininn-  that  they  fitted   it. 
allhouoh  they  were  as  hig  as  cart-wheels.     But 
they   finally  had   to  l)e  burned,  although   his 
father  felt  very  had  al)out  doin.u,'  it.     A  whole 
lot  of  things  were  hurned— things  just  as  curi- 
ous, as  richly  suoi-estive  of  delightful  plays, 
and  many  of  tliem  as  deeply  re^-rclted  by  his 
I'alher,  as  these  paper  wreaths;  and  men  came 

12 


THE  GREAT  rXKNOWX 


and  took  nway  \vaL»<^()n  loads  of  otlici  tilings. 
Al  last  the  morning  came  when  he  and  his 
I'athcr  took  llicir  dc  parlnrc,  kavinn-  the  three 
hlaek  I'liends  in  possession,  as  Michael  firmly 
l)rli(\i(I,  in  s[)ite  of  all  his  t'atlu  i'  could  say. 
lie  had  to  say  ncxxl-hyc  to  his  grandmother 
and  grandfather  and  all  his  aunts,  and  when 
he  was  Hnally  released  from  their  kisses  and 
tears  and  hot  smotlu'riiig  eml)races,  he  stood 
in  the  fresh  wii.dy  roadway  and  pranc«.il  till 
his  clean  hools  and  stockings  were  all  s})lashed 
with  mud.  and  indulged  in  shout  after  shout  of 
joy.  He  got  on  to  the  train  with  eyes  and 
eai's  \vidc  ()})en  for  wonders,  hut  encountered 
nothing  moi'e  remarkal)le  than  an  old  couplo 
who  were  in  the  compartment  he  and  his  father 
entered.  lie  speedily  poured  forth  to  them 
the  story  of  the  three  l)lack  friends  and  their 
conse(|uent  departiu'e  for  a  strange  country — 
a  tale  which  his  father  found  it  necessary  to 
supiilement  hy  an  explanation  that  the  three 
hlaek  fi-iends  were  not  actual  flesh  and  hlood 
usurpers.  As  the  old  lady,  won  liy  the  shivery 
charm  of  the  manner  in  which  he  reproduced 

13 


Tin:  GLOIIV  AM)  TIIK  DUE  AM 

Ihv.  looks  and  ways  oi'  those  remarkal.lc  l)cings, 
o'ave  him  a  hu-c.  t;aily  striped  hull's-vyc,  lie 
?()()k  MO  lurUier  pari    in  the  conversation  lor 
some  time.     He  received  it  with  an  apprc'/ui- 
tive  smile,  and  the  remark:— 'Oh,  Im  so  ohid 
it's  a  -ood  hnrd  one!     If  11  last,'    <md  devoted 
l,iniseir  to  enjoyment  of  it  for  some  time  io 
come.     \Vhen  he  once  more  hecame  conversa- 
tionally inclined,  he  gave  tliem  a  d-scription 
„r  "the  heantit'nl  crowns  made  of  roses,"  which 
he  "wore  lor  a  hnvj:  time,  hnt  father  had  to 
hurn  them.     He  didn't  want  to,  hnt  lie  said 
we  conldn't  take  anythi'^.-  with  ns,  heeause  we 
liiioht  have  to  hnihl  <un-  own  honse  and  thino-s 
w.ndd    -et    rained    on.      Besides,    lions    mi<.ht 
come  and  steal  them.     Tm  so  -lad  we're  goin-' 
away,  where  we'll  find  lions  and  all  scu'ts  of 
things  we  can"t  find  at  h.ome.  hut  no  matter 
how^nice  it  is.  Tm  going  to  come  hack  to  Ire- 
land when   I'm  grown  r.p  and  he  a  patriot. 
Father's  a  patriot,  l)nt  he  is  a  khid  that  doesn't 
liave  to  tight.     Of  course  he  would  if  he  had  a 
chance,  hut  he  hasn't  had  a  chance  yet.     1  want 
to  liave  a  chance  to  fight."  said  Michael,  liis 

14 


Tin:  GREAT  I'NKNOWX 

great  luniiiious  eyes  .shiiiin^u'  ^vith  ardent  long- 
luiX.  I  want  to  kill  a  whole  lot  of  Sacsaiuiigh, 
and  then  .^el  killed  myself,  lieeaiise  if  Tni 
killed  tii^htin,u\  people  won't  ery  ahout  nie,  and 
tnrn  all  blaek  and  horrid,  the  way  they  do  when 
a  person  ju>-t  ches." 

The  old  eonple  expressed  their  deli.uht  at 
these  sentiments  in  the  wannest  manner,  and 
showered  a  hundred  thousand  hlessin,L>s  on  his 
brave  enterprise.  This  was  naturally  stimu- 
lating to  ^liehael  hut  as  the  day  wore  on  even 
his  lively  little  tongue  i)egan  to  weary.  He 
got  hot,  and  so  tired  of  sitting  in  this  dull  elose 
plaee,  w'Ah  no  fun  going  on.  The  interest  of 
tile  ohl  eouple  began  to  laiiguisli,  and  presently 
they  fell  asleep,  and  their  mouths  opened,  and 
they  looked  ugly  and  stupid.  His  father  fell 
asleep,  too,  after  l\)rhid(ling  him  to  indulge  in 
anv  more  of  the  huU's-eye.  Miehael  sat  hold- 
in<i"  this  one  remaining  source  of  ])Ieasure  in 
his  hands,  liis  whole  little  being  one  ache  of 
lonirinjT  for  ciother  delicious  taste;  but  his 
sense  of  hoiiou.r  was  strong  enough  t<>  with- 
stand the  tem])tation.     He  would  not  disobey 

15 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

^vlliie  his  father  was  asleep.  The  tedium  was 
such  au  acute  pain  as  only  an  eaijer-hearted 
child,  condeiiiiied  to  hours  of  inaction,  can 
know.  If  only  his  father  would  waken,  so  tliat 
he  cn)uld  ask  wlien  tliey  were  going  to  get  to 
the  sea,  and  get  on  the  sliip!  lUit  liis  fi'ther 
continued  to  sleep:  and  linally  awoke,  t*  ihid 
:Michael  asleep  against  his  shoulder. 

He  had  an  impression  of  arriving  in  a  noisy 
place,  full  of  shouting,  and  men,  and  lights, 
although  it  wasn't  indoors,  and  asking  if  they 
had  got  to  the  sea  yet.  His  father  said:— 
"This  is  Cork,  and  we'll  get  on  hoard  to-mor- 
row." He  was  so  sleepy  he  could  hardly  stand 
up,  hut  his  father  h.eld  him  and  made  him  walk 
somehow,  and  they  came  to  a  house  with  stairs 
in  it— something  Michael  had  never  heen  in 
hefore.  He  had  to  climh  the  stairs,  sleepily 
conscious  that  this  was  heing  hrave,  and  his 
father  would  not  let  liim  fall,  and  he  was  put 
to  bed  at  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

^lichael  had  forgotten  all  the  solemn 
thoughts  he  had  had  lately  in  the  excitement  of 
taking  breakfast  at  a  long  table  full  ni'  strange 


^d«» 


THE  GREAT  UNKNOWN 

l)top]c  next  nioniin<T,  of  demanding: — 
"Wlure  are  the  grandinolher  and  grandfather 
wlio  gave  nie  the  l)uirs-eve  yesterday:"'  and  of 
starting  off  to  the  ship  with  his  fatlier,  when  a 
jiictinr  in  a  sliop  window  canglit  his  eye,  and 
lie  stopi)ed  short,  i)ulhng  so  liard  i'^  his 
f'atlier\s  hand  that  he  had  to  stop  too. 

"Father,  there's  a  pieture  of  an  angel!"  lie 
exelainied  in  a  tone  of  awe,  "Is  it  the  death 
angel.'" 

1 1  is  father  stood  looking  at  it  long  and  si- 
lently, in  such  a  way  that  ^Michael  did  not  re- 
peat his  (piestion.  for  he  knew  it  teas  the  death 
angel,  (ireat  and  soft,  slow  and  inexorahle, 
it  erept  np  the  steps  and  in  at  the  door.  A 
little  hoy  like  himself,  oidy  with  no  clothes  on, 
and  with  wings,  was  trying  his  yery  hest  to 
tight  it  away — just  as  he  luid  wanted  to  do. 
But  the  death  angel,  with  howed  head,  as  if 
it  did  not  want  to  see  the  struggles  of  that  lit- 
tle hoy,  was  pushing  him  hack  with  its  hand — 
not  in  a  way  that  could  hurt  at  all,  hut  in  a 
w  ay  you  couldn't  fight  against.  And  the  little 
1)()V  was  not  even  an  ordinary  little  hov — he 

ir 


..^^ 


THE  (iLORV  AND  THE  DKllAM 

liad  win<:j:s,  so  lie  must  })e  a  sort  of  an,u;cl,  or 
Tiiiry,  or  soiiietliiiin"  like  that  that  eould  do 
woiiderrid  tliiii^i^s  a  person  coiil(hi"t  do.  But 
lie  eouhhi't  keep  away  the  death  au'Ji'el.  ^li- 
chael  was  as  silent  and  grave,  if  not  as  sorrow- 
ful, as  his  father  when  they  finally  went  on 
down  the  street.  All  the  excitement  of  going 
to  the  shi[)  had  heen  m(»'ii'  ntai'ily  liushcd  out 
of  him.  lie  nnderstoo  ow,  that  nobodv 
could  ever  dri\e  awiiy  the  de^tli  angel. 


18 


CIIAPTKK  II 


THE    M:\\'    t(JUNTKV 


MiciiAFi.  lu  vcr  forgot  liis  sensations  Avlicr  lie 
fii'st  saw  the  shij).  lie  had  imagined  a  (hrty, 
oily  sail-hoat,  deli<^-ht fully  slipiiery  and  redo- 
kiit  of  tish,  lik-  those  in  wliieh  many  of 
his  nei*;hl)onrs  went  out  and  someiimes  ^-ot 
drowned,  and  he  had  imagined  that  he  and  his 
father  would  cross  the  great  ocean  all  alone  in 
such  a  erai't.  and  that  he  would  help  to  sail  it 
—a  thing  he  had  always  longed  so  to  do!  And 
instead,  he  saw  standing  still  and  majestic  at 
the  dock,  shining  hlue  and  MliiLe  in  a  sudden 
hright  hurst  of  sunshine,  the  grandest  thing 
he  had  ever  beheld  in  his  life.  lie  caught  his 
breath  in  wonder  and  awe.  It  was  so  big,  so 
still,  so  beautiful! 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed  to  his  father.  "Is  that 
the  shi])!*     -.Vre  we  going  to  get  on  that:"" 

They  went  up  a  long  plank  and  on  to  the 

19 


THE  GLORY  AND  Tlir.  DREA:\r 


great    lliiii.y-,    and    Micliacl    stood    iiiotioiik'ss 
there,  liis  tyts  iiutiinicd  and  dilated,  for  a  loiiu,- 
time  before  he  iiioveil  oi'  spoke.      Tlien  he  ex- 
ehiiined: — '"I   don't  feel  any  water  under  it!" 
That  continuous  soft,  swayini^',  (luiverini;'  mo- 
tion— the  yi'eatest  charm  of  the  anchoi'cd  tish- 
inu'  boats  into  which  he  liad  sometimes  been  al- 
lowed  to  climb— was  mis.>in!4-.  but  after  tliere 
had  been  a  ^I'reat  deal  (;f  noise,  and  people  go- 
iuL*'  about  in  a  hurry  and  ])ushing  him  out  of 
the  way  a>  he  stood  ga/.inu;  around  him,  and 
ti-unks  and  bundles  slanuned  down  on  the  deck 
(the  harp,  all  tied  up  in  sackin^u'.  was  amoni!,' 
them,  and  the  l)ig  j^'ohlen  sounds  boomed  forth 
as   it  was  srt  down)    the  hind  l)(.\L>'an  to  steal 
away,  softly,  over  the  sunlit  waters.     Michael 
ga/ed    at    it    in    speechless    wonder.      It    Avent 
farther  and   fai'ther,  in  that  slow,  mystei'ious 
manner,  tdl  at  last  the  dock  they  had  left  to  ,uct 
on   the   ship  was  barely  distinn-uishable.     At 
last  Michael  asked  his  father:— "Why  is  the 
land  u'oinL''  awav  from  us'" 

His    father    could    not    convince    him,    for 
some  time,  that  it  was  really  the  shij)  that  was 

20 


THE  m:w  COrXTRY 


k';i\ii\u'  the  land  I)(.liiii(l.  W'licii  lie  realized  at 
last  that  they  \\\rc  iu<)\iii^^  ovei-  the  sea,  leav- 
ii]^'  all  the  old  i';Mtiiliar  Ihiiii's  hehiiid,  i>'oin<'' 
I'orlh  to  meet  unknown  wondei's,  he  was  swal- 
lowed nj)  into  a  trance  of  [)ni'e  haj)[)iness.  He 
stood  leaniny  a^'ainst  the  railing;',  ^'azin^i;'  down 
at  the  green  (jnivering  waters  far  l)elow,  and 
did  not  move  or  s[)eak  for  a  long  time.  lUit 
he  was  lixcjy  tnongh  after  that  lirst  day.  He 
soon  awakened  to  the  faet  that  there  were  a 
\'.  hole  lot  of  olher  little  hoys  and  girls  on  hoard 
to  ])l;iv  \\ilh.  and  he  lo^t  no  ti.nie  in  makinu' 
iheir  ae(inaintanee.  Then,  he  and  his  father 
V.  ent  down  to  a  dark  plaee  at  the  hottom  of 
the  shi[),  every  day,  to  see  poor  ]''ionn,  tlie  ])et 
horse,  ll  was  so  dark,  Michael  eonld  jnst 
harely  see  (he  familiar  old  head  reaching  ont 
towards  him.  witli  its  k)ng  (lexihle  nose 
stretched  I'oi'th  for  tidhits.  It  made  him  very 
nnhai)py  to  see  Fionn,  and  all  those  other 
horses,  shnt  np  down  there.  Sometimes  he 
thought  ahont  it  after  he  went  to  hed  at  night, 
and  hnrst  out  crying:  sometimes  he  tlionght 
about  it  when  he  was  in  the  middle  of  a  par- 

21 


TIIK  GLOUV  AM)    Tlin  DRF.AM 

ticularly  nice  diinicr.  nnd  tlicn  tlic  dlmier  didn't 
•seem  nice  any  more,  and  lie  eouldnl  fmisli  it. 
After  iliey  landed  in  llie  new  eoiinlry  tliey 
liad  another  wearisome  jonrney  on  I  lie  train, 
luit  at  last  lliey  got  to  a  eity  where  tiiey  spent 
a  day  l)nyin<^  thin.u's.     Then  they  Liot  on  the 
train  ai»-ain.  and  <;ot  oil*  at  a  station  with  the 
liver  on  one  side,  and  a  great  many  piles  of 
M-ood  on  the  otlier.     Fiomi  was  to  eome  on  a 
freight  train,  l)nt  he  wonld  not  be  there  till 
lale  In  the  afternoon,     ^liehael  and  his  father 
went  to  a  plaee  that  was  fnll  of  tine  new  wag- 
gons, and  his  father  bought  u  beauty,  painted 
red  and  green,  over  \vhkh  Miehael  went  wild 
with  delight.      Vuhva  was  to  be  harnessed  lo 
it  as  soon  as  he  eame,  and  Ih.ey  were  to  drive 
lo  Iheir  new  home,  miles  u{)  l!ie  river.     Mi- 
ehael  awaited  Fionn's  arri\al  with  tiie  utmost 
impatienee.     He  wanted  to  be  sittiiig  beside 
his  father  on  the  high  seat  of  that  alluring  new 
vehicle,    with    its    great    red    wheels.     AVhen 
Fionn  was  at  last  unloaded  he  was  very  frisky, 
and  i)ranced  ;ill  the  way  to  the  waggon  sho]). 
lie    stamped    and    tossed    his    head    all    the 

•2-2 


";» 


Tin:  m:\v  (OUNthv 


^ 


lime  he  was  l)cin,n'  lianicsst'd,  and  llic  man 
in  the  slixp  liad  to  held  liini  wliilc  Mitliacl 
was  being  lifted  inln  the  seat,  and  liis 
lather  clinii)ed  in  and  look  tlie  reins.  Then 
Fionn  dashed  off  down  the  street  with  them, 
the  empty  waggon  rnnit)hng  in  the  grandisl 
way,  while  31iehael  jnnii)ed  'i\)  and  down  in 
the  seat  with  delight  at  this  wild  ride.  They 
eame  once  more  to  the  station,  and  there  Mi- 
ehael  watehed  the  Taseinating  process  of  load- 
ing the  waggon.  The  tent  tliev  were  to  live 
in  while  tliev  bnilt  their  hou>>e,  tin  Iuir|),  the 
parcels  tliey  had  got  in  the  city,  and,  la>t  and 
h'jst,  a  lot  of  deligiitfnl  pai)er  hags,  full  of 
good  things  to  eat,  were  loaded  in:  tliLii  they 
WLie  oil'  along  the  road  beside  the  river,  ^li- 
eliael  beaming  with  iov.  Tliev  were  aelualiv 
driving  in  their  own  new  waggon,  through  the 
new  country,  ./here  the  next  step  might  land 
them  into  "'ie  midst  of  unheard-of  wonders. 
This  expectation  lent  an  inexpressible  charm 
to  the  clear-hued,  bright  new  country.  It  was 
new  and  unknown,  consequently  wonderful. 
Evervthing  about  it  was  wonderful,  and  the 

23 


,,i0> 


Tin:  c.Lonv  and  'iiii:  dkkam 


lil'r  (licy  livfd  in  it  foiild  not  fail  to  I)r  woiulcr- 
liil.  'I'his  was  surely  (.•iioii-'li  to  lill  Micli;ul 
with  a  liliss  too  pure  tor  words  to  ullcr,  which 
could  oul_\  he  expressed  in  his  smile. 

The  sun  \\as  scttin.t;'  win  n  they  came  to  a 
hroad   ^reen   liill.     They    dro\e    past    a    little 
house  tliat  nestled  at  its  loot,  and  uj)  to  a  n-rcat 
wild  sloi»e  of  unhroken  meadow,  full  of  little 
hushes    and    Ion;;'   ^'rass    and    liowers.     Here 
l""ionn  was  stoi)ped.  and  Michaehs  lather  lil'led 
him     down,     sayin.u:- — "This     is     our     land." 
Michael's  first  impulse  was  to  race  as  fast  as 
he    could    ,u<>    throu^^h    that    lonii'   .U''-';i'>'>.    <i"tl 
he   ran  ui)hill  till  he  coul(hi't  run  any  more. 
and  had  to  Hop  down  on  the  ground,     'i'hen 
he  started  to  run  downhill  and  r;ui  faster  and 
faster  till  lie  could  hardly  stop  himself,  and 
then  his  father's  operations  l)ec-ame  so  interest- 
ing that  he  liad  to  devote  all  his  eneigies  to 
watching  lliein.     The  pitching  of  the  tent  was 
particularly  ahsorhing,  and   when   it  was  up 
Michael  thought  it  the  most  chaiMuing  ahode 
anv  lieart  could   desire.      He   ran   in   and  out 
the  door,  he  crawled  in   and  out  underneath, 

24 


Tin:  Nl.W  cor N TRY 


lie  I'olkd  iliout  in  Hit-  swcd  I'lr^li  ^i-a-^s  llial 
was  ti)  ill.'  tlicir  lldcr.  Wlun  his  I'alhir  un- 
packed h\ii  cnl  liids  and  put  IIkmi  up.  he  (  x- 
claiiiK'd: — "WIin-  lia\e  we  ,u<)t  to  slei  ji  in  lieds^ 
It  would  l)L'  so  nice  ju->l  to  make  nests  for  our- 
selves in  the  nrass!" 

Hut  the  most  .if\\  fid  time  ol'  all  was  when 
his  latin  r  made  a  tire,  and  look  L^ood  tliiu,^'s 
to  cut  out  of  those  alluiinii-  jjaper  ha,us  and 
cooked  tilt  in.  .Miehac  1  had  lieen  looking-  and 
snitliiiii'  lon.n'in^iily  at  lht»se  pajier  ha^s  for  some 
time,  and  he  enjoyed  their  contents  with  an 
intensity  that  would  lia\e  caused  nhsolute 
silence,  and  ^^I'im  de\(itioii  to  husiness.  in 
anotlier  l)oy;  hut  in  him  the  need  for  self-ex- 
pression was  c\en  more  imi)erative  than  hun- 
ger, so  he  \\as  not  too  husy  to  excdaim  at  in- 
tervals all  Ihrout^ii  the  meal: — "This  is  tlie 
hest  tea  I  ever  had!"  It  was  so  yood,  that 
it  was  tile  liardest  work  to  spai'c  even  the  tiniest 
moivsels  for  Fionn,  wlio.se  share  of  yood  thing's 
from  MieluuTs  plate  was  Gfoicrally  so  llheral. 

II(,'  found  the  new  country  no  kss  deliL!.ht- 
ful  in  the  succeedinir  weeks  and  months  than 


25 


Tiir.  (ii.ouv  AM)  riii:  1)i;i:.\.m 


(»M  thai  lli^l  _jii\  fill  (lay.  'riurc  was  so 
iiiiK'li  siiii^liiiK'.  thai  it  sdiiictinu's  made  Iiiiii 
almost  tired  Ixiiii;'  Iiapjiv.  Tlit  ii-  was  the 
^rcat  rivtr  to  phiy  l)c'si(lc,  and  whiii  he  oiuc 
H'ot  down  t'h)sc  to  the  water  he  never  waiitid 
lo  i^o  away  a^^-ain.  Bui  his  t'athei"  did  not  hke 
him  to  ^o  alone,  and  he  never  could  slay  hall' 
as  long  as  Mieliael  would  have  liked.  He  was 
alwavs  .sa\"inn-: — "Come  alon;)'  n(^w.  old  man. 
We  must  ;^'et  to  work  a!  oiu'  house  ai^ain."  Mi- 
chael ne\  tr  could  oh  jcct  wvy  sh'onnly  to  this. 
l)uildin^'  the  house  was  such  fun.  lie  helped 
his  fatlui'  a  "real  deal  with  it.  When  l'"ioiin 
was  harucss(.(i  to  a  .^rcat  hi;4  luiilc,  (ti.  ,  was 
the  scrajicr)  which  du:n'  out  the  place  for  the 
cellar.  Michael  took  the  icius  and  jjuI  oin'  hand 
on  c.icli  of  the  <>'reat  woodin  handles,  and  di'o\e. 
There  was  no  such  jM'oud  delI,L;lit  as  this — to 
fill  the  warm  tiirill  iVom  that  ^reat  strong' 
liody  come  down  t^'.e  reins  to  his  hands,  and 
to  leel  that  he  had  it  in  his  power!  liesides 
this,  lie  did  a  lot  of  sawinf*'.  and  that  was  hai'd 
work,  for  the  saw  would  woUdc  aiid  <^o  all 
crooked.     He  seized  the  plane  ever\'  time  his 


^ 


Tin:  NT.w  ( orxTRV 

ratlitr  laid  it  liowii,  ti'jd  ;i  .strin;^-  aroiiiul  it, 
and  dia,m;((l  it  all  owv  tl:c  place,  dccdai'inn"  it 
was  his  |)(.l  swan,  lie  made  a  spliyiix  (,.it 
of  the  nmilai-  left  (i\\\  tVoiii  the  ehiiniiey. 
Ilis  I'.ithei'  had  said  thei'e  was  oidv  one  splunx 
ill  the  world,  and  Al  ieliai  1  was  iiiiiuedial  dy 
lired  will)  an  anihition  to  make  another,  and 
aiiiiouneed  triuiiij)hantly,  when  it  was  eom- 
Jjleled,  that  there  were  /tlo  .sj)hyn\es  iiosv! 
Hut  the  ;^iory  of  this  achievement  was  soon 
east  into  the  siiadi'  hy  another,  still  more  hel])- 
I'lil  to  ilis  father  and  the  jji'oj^ress  of  the  new 
house.  \\'hen  his  father  henan  to  make  fires 
III  the  y-nd  and  iiult  tar,  he  could  not  keep 
away  from  the  i)l;u'k,  sticky,  delinhtful  stutt', 
and  one  day  his  father  was  short-sighted 
enough  to  lea\e  him  alone  in  the  yai'd  with  a 
h\<r  pot  of  it  for  three  minutes.  A  nreat  deal 
can  sometimes  happen  in  three  minutes,  as  ]Mi- 
chael's  father  was  fully  convinced  after  that 
day.  He  came  i)ack  to  find  Michael  very 
hapi)y,  very  proud  of  himself,  and  so  olceful 
over  the  impression  his  personal  ap})earancc 
made  on  his  lather,  that  t   .   latter  wond(?red, 

27 


.-.>*'' 


Tin:  GLORY  .\\D  TIIK  DRKAM 

for  one  brief  iiinnKnt.  ii'  his  cliaraotcr  were 
not  ill  k(.'(-'|)ii)ii'  willi  liis  ])rfsL'iil  oiilcr  hue. 
Jusi  wliy  tills  exploit  ga\e  him  siieh  nuid  joy 
at  the  tiiiK',  was  reinenibercd  and  caressed  and 
floated  (ivvv  uith  sueli  delicious  satisfaction, 
and  the  marks  of  it,  whieli  wore  off  with  a 
j^ratilyiii^-  slowness,  cherished  as  if  tluy  had 
hc(.  n  (lie  ^'ict()ria  Cross,  would  be  diilieult  even 
i'or  .Michael  himself  to  cxi)lain.  l*erha])s  if  he 
had  nut  been  hlessed  with  a  father  ^vll()  Iiad  a 
sense  of  liiimour  and  a  tender  heart,  the  ex- 
perience nii^ht  not  have  been  so  pleasing. 

His  father  was  alwavs  doinn-  interesting' 
thinfr.s.  One  day  he  took  a  great  big  long  chain, 
for  which  Micliael  thought  the  only  right  use 
was  to  catch  cK'pliants  and  chain  them  up 
to  tame  them;  but  it  was  mei'ely  used  for 
measu;  ing  land.  Michael  felt  disappointed 
that  a  cliain  so  admirahly  ada])ted  to  a  no- 
ble use  should  be  thrown  away  on  a  })iece  of 
work  so  much  less  important.  There  was  a 
fascination  about  the  ploughing  and  the  1 '.ar- 
rowing and  the  sowing  of  seed,  and  with  life 
so   full  of  interest,  it  never  occurred  to  31i- 

28 


rili:  NEW  COUNTRY 


H 


cliatl  to  wish  that  lie  luul  sonic  other  children 
to  j>hiy  with.  Hut  one  nioniinn'  wlien  lie  was 
at  work  at  the  sphynx.  he  was  startled  ))y 
another  little  l)oy"s  \()ice — a  slow  and  careful 
voice,  as  ii  talkiiiir  was  hard  work — that 
said: — "I  sawed  you  iiere,  and  I  am  glad  there 
is  a  little  boy  for  nie  to  [day  with.  I  have  no 
hoy  to  play  with,  and  I  came  over  here  to  })lay 
with  you." 

Michael  looked  up,  and  saw  a  little  boy  just 
his  own  size  standing-  looking  at  him. 

"I  can't  play  just  now,"  he  replied  with 
din?iity.     "I'm  making  a  //m-phynx." 

The  little  boy  stared  at  him  and  the  sphynx 
in  silence  for  a  while,  and  then,  concluding 
that  this  performance  was  too  l)ewil(lering  for 
him  to  ])uz7.le  his  matter-of-fact  head  about, 
brought  the  conversation  down  to  the  simplest 
commonplaces  by  the  announcement:— "I  am 
Xieder." 

"I'm  :Miehael,"  was  the  reply.  "Father 
brought  me  out  to  the  new  country  after 
mother  died  and  the  three  black  friends  came 
to  live  in  the  house.     It's  so  nice  to  live  in  the 

29 


I!' 


TIIK  GLOUV  AND  THE  DREAM 

new  country!     Have  you  seen  any  lions  yet, 
Xieder?" 

'•No." 

"Have  you  seen  any  elephants?" 

"No."    " 

'•Tell  me  as  soon  as  you  see  any,  because 
father  has  a  chain  he  could  catch  them  with." 

"Why  do  you  not  -o  t(^  the  circus,  if  you 
want  lions  and  elephants  to  see?" 

"Because  I  want  to  see  w=l(l  ones,  that  I  can 
catch!"  cried  :Srichael.  "There  must  he  lots 
around  here.     Did  you  always  live  here? ' 

"Xo.  My  mother  and  my  father  hrmged 
me  here  since  spring'." 

"Did  vou  come  from  Ireland?" 

"No.  '  I  comed  from  Deutschland.  Will 
you  he  ready  soon  to  play?" 

"I  haven't  finished  the  Mss-i^hynx  yet,"  said 

Michael. 

"I  want  to  run  a  racr  "  said  Xiedcr.^ 

The  slope  of  meadow  was  ver\'  inviting,  and 

it  was  a  long  time  shice  .Michael  had  had  a 

little  hov  to  race  with.     "I  can  finish  it  after 

dinner,"'  he  said,  and  darted  off,  Xleder  after 

80 


THE  NEW  CUCXTRY 

liim.  ^ridiael  tlms  had  a  playmate  added  to 
liis  oilier  new  .i<\v.s;  and  although  Xieder  con- 
tinued to  maintain  a  stolid  stupitlity  on  the 
subjects  ol'  sphynxes,  lions  and  elephants,  ^li- 
chael  scarcely  felt  that  lack  in  a  boy  who  was 
so  splendid  for  races  and  see-saw  and  every 
kind  of  active  play. 


31 


CTTAPTEK  III 

THE  rebel's  house 

Ce  (la7  JMidiacl  and  Xieder  were  playin*jj  in 
the  middle  of  tlic  road  tliat  ran  downhill.  On 
the  other  side  oi'  the  road  there  was  a  fence, 
and  a  bi-"'  field,  and  awav  across  that  field  there 
was  a  .L>roup  of  trees  with  a  honse  showing 
among  them. 

"1  wonder  if  it  gives  anv  little  hovs  and 
girls  in  +hat  house,"  said  Xieder,  who  had  not 
yet  learned  English  idioms.  "I  would  he  glad, 
if  it  gived  many  of  us." 

"I  think  two  of  us  arc  crough,"  said  ]Mi- 
chael.  *'If  we  knew  the  little  hoys  and  girls 
in  that  house,  perhajjs  we  wouldn't  like  them. 
rerha[)s  we  would  (juarrel  with  them,  and  that 
would  spoil  (KU"  play." 

"If  we  go  in  there  Ave  might  find  them," 
sai(^  Xieder,  ignoring  tliese  speculations. 

"I  don't  want  to  go  in  there.     I  want  to  see 

ti2 


THE  REBET/S  HOUSE 


0 


M 


where  tlic  road  Lads  to  iipliill.  There's  no 
kiio\viiii>'  where  it  goes!  Just  think,  perhaps 
we  niiglit  Had  h'oiis  and  elephanlsl" 

"T  want  to  find  other  httle  bovs  and  i^irls. 
1  tinded  you  in  Ihdl  {daee,  and  we  nii^ht  find 
other  little  hoys  in  I  hat  one,"  said  Xieder, 
pointin^t^'  alternately  to  the  two  tields  on  the 
op))osite  sides  of  the  road. 

^NJiehael  had  taet  enough  to  reply: — "We 
might  find  a  house  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  with 
more  little  bovs  and  uirls  in  it  than  there  arc 
in  that  one.  If  there  were  any  in  that  one,  we 
would  see  tlum  playing  in  tlie  field." 

This  seemed  to  Xieder  a  reasonable  argu- 
ment, and  he  followed  ]Micluiel  silently  uphill. 
The  I'oad  I)eeamc  more  entieinii"  and  mysterious 
the  farther  they  went.  The  dusty  part  got 
narrower  and  narrower,  till  at  last  there  wasn't 
any  at  all,  and  il  became  what  Michael  called 
"a  woods  of  yellow  flowers,  bigger  than  us." 
They  became  so  thick  that  the  boys  could  see 
nothing  ahead  of  tlicm,  except  gleams  of  sun- 
shine through  the  gi-cat  rank  stalks.  They 
might  find  anything  here — any  minute!     Xie- 


'O 


33 


.11 

i- 

m 


Tin:  (iLORY  AND  THE  DREA:\r 


(kl 

wit 
wil 


I  !-{)kc   in   on    Micluicrs  di  licions  raptnre 
llie  remark:    -"Tliis  is  not  a  road.     We 
not  lino  a  lionse  litre." 

"Hnt  wf  mi^ht  iind  (iii//lhiii(/:"  cried  Mi- 
fhael,  in  a  tone  of  such  liopel'ul  excitement  that 
Xieder  followed  on.  At  last  they  came  to  an 
old  uatc,  with  ,<;olden-^i4reen  moss  all  over  the 
urey  i)ars,  and  warm  willi  the  snnshine.  Mi- 
chael leaned  his  cheek  a.u'ainst  it,  feelin-,^  per- 
fectly happy,  and  for^iicltini;-  for  the  moment 
that  l;e  had  wanted  to  '^o  any  farther,  hut  Xie- 
der a<4ain  recalled  him  to  practical  considera- 
tions hy  the  i-emark:— "Ilere  ^i^ives  it  a  hole, 
where  a  do.u'  I2;ets  in  and  out." 

There  was  a  liole  under  the  pjate,  Avhere  the 
earth  was  \u)V\\  (piite  smooth,  and  Michael  was 
([uick  to  discover  that  it  was  just  the  ri<>ht 
size  for  him  and  Xieder  to  wri<4-,ule  under.  On 
the  other  side  they  found  the  same  wilderness, 
diversified  hy  monster  i)i^veeds,  one  of  which 
Michael  vaiidy  endeavoured  to  pull  up  in  order 
to  show  Xieder  the  ])retty  i)ink  root.  Sud- 
deidy  thev  found  themselves  in  front  of  a 
house.     It  had  a  hig  veranda,  all  grey  and 

34 


THE  REBET/S  HOUSE 


inoss-covcrcd  like  Ihc  i^atj;  a  ^i^'i'upcviiic  ran 
up  one  j)o.st  and  over  a  i^reat  deal  of  the  floor: 
the  tall  yellow  flowers  almost  ohseured  the  sa,<4- 
^11  ii;'  steps. 

"Xo  little  hovs  and  uirls  live  hcie,"  said 
Xieder  in  a  tone  ol'  disf^ust. 

"Oh,  '.V("ll  find  (jr<iii(]  thiii,i4's  in  here!"  cried 
Michael,  rmiiiiiiii'  eagerly  up  the  steps.  >rie- 
der  followed  slowly,  autl  turned  aside  to  in- 
vcstiijfate  the  u"raj)e  vine.  Michael  sli])])ed  in 
the  great  door,  which  stood  ajar,  and  then 
paused,  gazing  around  at  the  hall,  with  its 
sin(K)th.  dai'k  tloor.  its  wide,  majestic  staircase, 
and  the  window  at  tlie  head.  lie  was  drink- 
ing in  the  \ast  silence,  and  in  another  moment 
his  iniagi''  ition  Mould  have  been  hard  at  work; 
but  Xieder  came  in,  saying: — "The  grapes  are 
little  and  green,  and  I  camiot  eat  them!" 

Just  then  they  heard  a  sound  upstairs,  like 
some  one  cr\  ing.  It  echoed  strangely  through 
the  emntv  rooms. 

"I  want  to  go  home,"  X'^ieder  exclaimed  sud- 
denly. 

"Are  you  afraid?"  demanded  3Iichael,  in 

35 


THE  GLOliY  AM)  Til  :  mn'.AM 


sudi  a  tone  that  Xicdcr  liastilv  answered: — 

> 

"No!"'  in  his  roundest  manner. 

"Tlien  eome  nn,"  said  Miehael.  and  started 
ni)stairs.  Xieder  made  a  ^^reat  noise  stami)- 
hvj;  liis  feet  as  lie  followed.  This  served  the 
d(/ul)le  i)uri)()se  of  imi)i'essing  ^Miehael  i'avour- 
ahly  with  his  eoura,ue.  and  drownint^'  out  his 
ou  n  fears.  Xieder  ahvays  felt  better  when  he 
was  making  a  noise. 

T'he  cryin,i>'  stopped,  and  suddenly  a  little 
<4irl  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"Oh!"  she  eried  rapturously  when  she  saw 
them.     "Where  did  you  eome  fromf' 

"Home,"  was  Xieder's  eoneise  hut  indefhiitc 
re]dy. 

'T)()  you  live  all  alorie  here,  like  a  fairy?" 
cried  Miehael. 

"Xo,  Tm  only  Susan.  I  come  here  when 
Fm  lonely,  and  1  was  eryinL>'  heeause  I  have 
nobody  to  play  with.  1  have  been  with  my 
cousins  in  town  all  summer;  mother  was  siek, 
and  sbe's  iiot  well  enougli  to  be  com])any  for 
me  yet.  She  goes  to  sleep  such  a  lot!  I  was 
so  lonely  for  my  cousins,  and  so  I  came  up 

30 


THE  Ri:ni:i/s  iiolsk 


here,  and  I  ericd  because  I  have  nobody  to  phiy 
with!" 

"We'll  all  play  here,"  said  .Michael,  and  went 
through  an  open  door  beside  them.  It  led  into 
a  wide  l)ai-e  room,  that  felt  _i>rand  a'ld  solemn. 
The  snnshinc  stiraincd  in  throuuli  the  ^reat 
low  window. 

''There  is  a  kinuj  standing'  in  the  middle  of 
this  room,"  Michael  said  in  a  soft,  hushed 
voice. 

"Xo,"  replied  Xicder  solemnly.  "There  is 
no  kinu"  here." 

"lint  I  see  his  golden  crown.  Oh.  it  is  such 
a  l)eautirul  golden!     Susan,  don't  you  see  it.'" 

"Where  is  it:""  demanded  Susan  eagerly. 

"On  his  head,  of  course." 

"But  where  is  his  hea(H  I  can't  see  it!  I'd 
love  to  see  a  golden  crown!" 

"He  is  not  here,"  Xieder  repeated. 

"I  want  to  see  that  crown!  Tell  me  where 
it  is,"  begged  Susan. 

"He  is  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
and  his  head  readies  up  as  far  as  the  top  of 
that  window,  so  his  crown  is  up  there." 

37 


THE  GLOUV   AM)  'VWV.   DKKA.M 


Silvan  ,u:i/.c(l  fixedly,  will)  wide  eyes,  at  llu' 
pi.iiit  Mic'lKul  iiidifalnl.  luit  at  last  s\\v  said 
ill  a  tone  of  Ww  most  soiTowt'ul  disappoiid- 
iiRiit : — "1  cftii'l  svv  it!" 

•"l    want  to  '^n  into  tlir  oilier  rooms,"  said 

Mic-liacl. 

'•They're  all  alike,"  said  Susan.  "They're 
all  empty,  and  they  make  me  so  lonely!" 

\\u[  .Michael  ran  into  another  room,  and 
suddeidy  stopped  short,  exelaiming: — "Oh! 
There's  a  heautii'ul  peacock  stork!" 

"Wlierc?     What's    a    peacock    stork  r"    In- 

(piired  Susan. 

"It's  like  a  i)cacock"  (Michael  had  heen 
deeply  impressed  hy  a  j)eacoek  in  the  hold  of 
the  ship  comin.u'  over).  "Only  it  has  a  white 
spot  in  the  middle  of  its  hack,  and  instead  of 
havinf,^  common  looking-  wings,  like  a  grey  hen, 
they're  red  and  golden.  lie's  flying  across 
the  room  now!  ' 

"Let  us  play  tag,"  said  Xieder. 

They  had  not  heen  long  at  this  game,  hefore 
]Miehacl  discovered  a  green  dog  mIio  raced 
around  v.-itli  them  everywhere.     This  creature 

38 


Tin:  ur,ni:i;s  iiorsE 


joiiud  ill  all  lli(ir  plays  that  day,  and  ivtn 
\i(.(kr  had  to  reckon  with  liini,  puzzled  and 
ill-plcascd  as  he  was  hy  his  piTscncc.  ^lichacl 
had  found  a  new  joy,  and  one  whieh  was  to  be 
his  ureatest  (kli''ht  for  vears  lo  eonie.  The 
emi)ty  honse  had  suddenly  roused  an  iina^',ina- 
tion  whieh  had  only  been  auailinn'  some  sueh 
stimulus  to  put  I'ortli  its  lull  strength.  It 
never  was  an  euijjty  house  a<^-ain.  lie  eould 
seareely  keep  away  \'v(>u\  those  l)are,  eehoinf:^, 
solemn  rooms,  that  were  peopled  with  sueh 
bright  and  delii'litrul  beiuf^'s.  He  said  as  soon 
as  lie  met  his  two  [)lay!nates  every  morning: — 
"Let  us  go  up  to  the  Kebel's  House!"  This 
was  what  Susan  ealled  it.  She  said  her  father 
had  told  her  it  onee  belonged  to  a  measly 
wretch  of  a  rebel  (Miehael,  with  fiery  eyes,  cor- 
rected this  epithet.  He  told  her  she  should 
say  patriot,  and  patriots  were  always  brave 
men)  but  that  he  had  been  taken  prisoner  and 
all  his  things  were  taken  away  from  bim,  and 
so  the  honse  had  been  emj)ty  ever  since. 

Susan  was  always  very  ready  to  act  on  Mi- 
cliael's  suggestion  of  repairing  to  the  llebel's 

39 


'iiii:  (.i.oKv  AM)  Tin:  nm.AM 


IToiisc.  U>v  it  rasciuaUd  Iicr  too — and  slic 
always  had  a  liopc  of  liciii.i4-  alilc  to  src  the 
kind's  ^dhkii  ti'o\vii,cr  the  woiidci-riil  peafoc'k 
stoik.  'i'hc  j)fat'oc'k  .s^)ik"s  ua\\\c  was  Shy- 
lincc,  and  he  was  always  llyiii^'  Irom  oik  room 
to  another,  with  Miehael  in  |)nrsnit,  eoaxin^ 
him  to  come  and  he  I'eck  Xieder  eould  not 
enchu'e  Sh\  hnee,  lie  could  tolerate  Duke- 
land,  (he  ui-een  do,u',  I'or  the  latter  was  often 
the  centre  of  e.\cilin<4'  plays,  although  it  did 
make  him  cross  to  have  to  )la\'  with  a  thin_<r 
tliat  wasn't  there  at  all.  lltit  one  day  when 
Michael  started  on  his  pui'suit  of  Shylince,  he 
lost  his  temper  comi)letely. 

"It  o-ives  no  Shylince!"  he  asserted  j)assi()n- 
utely.     "Xo  hird  is  in  this  house." 

"But  I'm  |)layin<^'  there  is  a  Shylince!"  pro- 
tested Michael. 

"\Vhat  for  do  you  play  with  thinj^'s  that  are 
not  here^' 

"He  is  here!" 

"I  will  go  home,  if  you  play  with  him!" 

Michael  yielded  for  the  present,  resolving 
to  \\n<xQr  after  Xieder  and  Susan  left,  and  en- 

40 


Tin:  iu:ni:i;s  house 


'I'llC     SUM 


^roJlC 


i(»\'  Sli\Iiiict'  in  pcacr.  i  lie  sum  W.u 
down  win  II  tiny  !<  It :  ll.cii'  was  a  culd,  ;j;wy 
li_L;Iit  in  till-  rtifiiii  wIuTc  lie  stood,  lookin;^'  at 
Sli\  litK'c.  'I'lir  lattcf.  \\  lio  was  l)cfoiiiinn'  tame, 
was  slaMdini^:  IxI'oi-c  liiin  on  llic  floor.  II"  was 
so  distinct,  in  all  his  hcautilul  coloui-s,  even  io 
the  little  ^\llite  spot  on  his  hack,  lint  Xieder's 
words  eanie  hack  to  Mi'hael,  making-  him  I'eel 
as  ir  he  could  never  like  anything'  a^ain — as 
if  all  the  swert  I'aniiliar  .joys  of  his  life  were 
hitting"  him  in  some  Icndei*  place  and  makini? 
him  want  to  ci-y.  1 1  would  he  so  sad,  so  dread- 
ful, if  Xieder  sJundd  ha|)j)en  to  he  ri<^'ht — and 
there  really  wasn't  any  Shylinee!  JUit  Shy- 
linee  still  stood  there,  heautiful  and  hriy'ht,  and 
as  ^lieluul  stood  contemplating  him  those 
douhts  ^i>radually  ])assed  away — and  never 
came  back,  in  spite  of  Xieder's  continued  de- 
nials. 


-r.; 


Pi 


41 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  PRISONI^K   IN   THE  BARN 

It  was  a  fall  morning.  The  sky  was  clean, 
the  ground  was  clean,  and  the  grey  empty  air 
was  so  inviting,  that  each  of  the  three  play- 
mates was  exclaiming,  before  breakfast  was 
over: — "I  want  to  get  out!" 

It  was  just  the  kind  of  day  on  which  to 
carry  out  a  stern  purpose,  and  Michael  and 
Susan  and  Xieder  had  decided,  the  afternoon 
before,  that  something  very  stern  had  to  be 
done  to-day.  The  fact  of  the  matter  was,  a 
wicked  man  had  l)een  hanging  about  the 
Rebel's  House  lately.  Dukeland  always 
frightened  away  anybody  who  had  a  loud  voice, 
but  unfortunately  the  wicked  man  hadn't  a 
loud  vcice,  so  Uukeland  could  not  be  persuaded 
to  attack  him.  lie  always  whispered.  It 
wasn't  a  nice  whisper,  Michael  said — it  was  a 

12 


THE  PKISOXKR  IN  THE  BARN 


(lusty  wliisper.  He  was  convinced  that  if  he 
could  only  make  tliis  person  yell,  Dnkeland 
would  i'ri^hten  him  away — hut  no  matter  what 
he  did,  he  never  could  make  him  yell. 

\ieder  looked  with  comparative  favour  on 
the  wicked  man,  hecause  he  was  exciting'. 
Days  with  him,  as  with  Dukeland,  involved 
.unninfi^  and  shoutin/i;,  so  Xieder  was  willin<^'  to 
overlook  his  exasperatin<j^  lack  of  suhstance. 

It  had  never  occurred  to  them  to  make  a 
prisoner  of  tliis  ohjectionahle  person  till  the 
(lav  hefore,  Avhen  they  had  an  hospital  in  the 
l?ehers  House.  Tlie  liospital  consisted  of  a 
row  of  corn-cobs  on  the  old  sofa,  and  a  pot  of 
muddy  water  at  one  end.  This  was  soup,  and 
after  ^Michael  and  Xieder,  wlio  'were  the  doc- 
tors, had  <>ivep.  all  the  ])atients  the  same  kind 
of  medicine,  (it  would  have  looked  like  red 
paiut  to  an  observer)  Susan  "ave  them  each  a 
sjjoonful  of  soup.  Tlien  she  covered  the  pot, 
and  they  went  home  to  dinner.  Michael 
stayed  behind  for  a  few  minutes. 

\\'hen  they  came  back  in  tlie  af*^ernoon  the 
soup  was  gone,  nothing  hehig  left  but  a  little 

43 


I 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  TREAM 

sand  in  tlic  bottom  of  llic  pot.  Only  one  thing 
could  possibly  have  happened— the  wieked  man 
nmst  have  drunk  up  all  that  sr-ip! 

:Miehael  had  a  strange  impression  that  he 
had  tipped  the  pot  over  after  the  others  had 
departed,  but  of  course  that  was  oidy  an  illu- 
sion, hkc  the  sun  g"inn-  round  the  earth,  or 
the  trees  sticking  up  into  tiic  sky.  What  had 
really  hapi)ene(l  was  that  the  wieked  man  had 
come  in  and  stolen  the  soup. 

They  were  unanimous  in  their  decision  that 
after  such  an  outrageous  theft  the  wicked  man 
must  not  be  allowed  to  go  about  loose  any 
longer.  They  must  come  to-morrow,  what- 
ever happened,  and  take  him  prisoner. 

:Michael  promised  'ihat  he  would  bring  he■i^7 
chains,  a.id  big  iron  things  to  go  round  his 
feet,  and  big  iron  things  to  go  round  his  hands. 

"Where  wil!  you  get  them'"  asked  Nieder. 

"I'll  find  them,"  sriid  :\liel'ael. 

"Will  you  be  able  to  see  Ihcm?"  asked  Susan. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Michael.  "They'll  be 
so  heavy  to  carry,  perha])s  I  won't." 

Naturally  the  three  i)laymates  were  eager  to 

U 


THE  TRISOXER  IX  THE  BARN 

meet  next  iiiorning,  but  Susan's  father  had  to 
go  to  town,  and  her  mother  was  nervous  and 
eould  not  stand  being  left  alone,  so  Susan,  with 
a  doleful  face,  but  a  sweet  digiiity  becoming 
to  a  martyr,  told  Michael  that  the  capture  of 
the  wicked  man  nuist  be  put  off  till  the  after- 
noon. In  the  afternoon  they  all  met  on  the 
road,  and  31ichael  had  his  arms  stretched 
htraight  out  in  front  of  him. 

"I've  got  the  chains  on  my  shoulders,"  he 
c'Xi)lained,  "and  the  iron  things  are  on  my 
arms.     They're  very  heavy." 

"\'.'ill  he  kick  and  fight  and  try  to  get  away 
like  that  great  big  rooster  I  caught^"  inquired 
Susan. 

"You  bet,"  said  Xieder,  who  was  learning 
English  expressions  fast. 

"lie  won't  fight  after  he  gets  those  on," 
said  Michael. 

">V()n't  he?  Wouldn't  you  fight  if  any  one 
put  tilings  like  those  on  you?"  asked  Susan. 

"No.     I'd  kill  him  first." 

"Would  you  kill  liim  if  he  was  a  good  man 
and  you  were  a  bad  man?" 

45 


li 

i\ 

Sit:  J 

tfl 


i 


THE  GLORY  AND  TIIF.  DREAM 


"I  would." 

"But  ii'  lie  got  them  on  before  you  could  kdl 
him,  woukhrt  you  tight  f 

"No,  I  wouldn't  light  after  that." 

"Then  we  will  be  able  to  have  the  procession 
with  him  to  the  barn  all  right,"  said  Susan. 

The  hunt  for  the  wicked  man  was  most  ex- 
citing. .Michael,  of  course,  was  the  one  who 
discovered  him.  "He's  lying  on  the  roof  of 
the  root-house,"  he  told  the  others.  '"Don't 
vou  see  him,  eating  hot  biscuits  as  fast  as  he 
can?  He  must  have  stt)len  those.  Did  your 
mother  bake  biscuits  tiiis  morning,  Nieder^' 
"She  baked  some  yesterday,  but  wc  ate  them 

all,"  said  Nieder. 

'■Then  he  must  have  stolen  those  from  some 
one  living  in  the  woods.  I  had  no  idea  his 
mouth  was  so  big.  Why,  tiuit's  almost  a 
whole  one  he  has  just  put  in!  Oh,  he  sees 
lis!  You  run  around  behind  the  root-house, 
and  head  him  off  if  he  tries  to  get  away,  and 

I'll  face  him." 

There  was  a  fierce  struggle,  and   Michael 
was  the  one  who  fought  most  strei  uousiy.     He 

40 


THE  rUISONKR  IX  THE  BARN 

suddenly  threw  himself  on  one  knee  and  looked 
around  at  Xieder. 

"Vou  get  those  iron  things,  Xieder,"  he  said. 
"lie's  down  now.  ]My  knee's  on  his  bread- 
l.asket/' 

"Did  you  leave  them  here?"  asked  Xieder. 

'\Xo,  they're  over  there  on  that  pile  of 
stones. 

Xieder  brought  them. 

"Susan,  eon^e  and  help  X'ieder  hold  him," 
said  JMichael.  "I'll  have  to  go  and  find  a 
store,  and  buy  a  striped  suit  to  put  on  him. 
Prisoners  can't  have  clothes  like  other  people." 

"There  isn't  any  store  around  here,"  said 
Xieder. 

"I'll  find  one  in  the  woods,"  said  ^lichael, 
and  ran  off  towards  the  stump  fence  that 
.se[)arated  the  woods  from  the  old  place. 

"If  you  see  any  groundhogs  under  that 
fence,  whistle  for  me,"  Xieder  called  after 
liim. 

"Stay  where  you  arc,"  said  ^lichael  per- 
emptorily. "1  don't  care  if  there  are  a  thou- 
sand groundhogs  and  a  milhon  of  those  duck- 

47 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

bill  thinrrs,  or  even  if  I  see  a  zebra,  I  won't 
have  you  let  that  man  go  after  the  fight  we  had 
getting  him." 

"But  Susan  could  hold  him,  and  she  doesn't 
want  groundliogs,"  said  Xieder.  Michael 
made  no  answer,  but  ran  off,  and  had  wriggled 
tin-ough  into  the  woods  before  Nieder  could 
rei)resent  to  him  the  tedium  of  holding  nn  im- 
aginary man  wliile  there  were  real  groundhogs 
liicHng'under  the  stump  fen.ce.  He  didn't  care 
if  it  was  only  the  duckbill  things  and  the  zebra, 
but  he  did  want  to  hunt  a  groundhog. 

"Put  those  iron  things  on  him,"  Michael 
called  from  the  other  side  of  the  fence. 

Xieder  had  actually  forgotten  the  iion 
things,  but  he  made  haste  to  put  them  on, 
although  it  was  hard  to  tell  where  the  culprit's 
arms  and  legs  were.  Michael  was  back  by  the 
time  this  performance  was  over. 

"I  got  the  suit,"  he  said. 

"What  does  it  look  like?"  asked  Susan. 

"It  is  striped  grey  and  white,  and  it  is  rather 
loose,  because  the  man  asked  wh-it  size,  and  I 
said  I  didn't  know,  but  I  said  the  man  was 

48 


THE  PRISONER  I\  THE  DARN 


thin  and  slouched,  and  so  lie  gave  nic  a  humpy 
sort  of  one." 

"Will  we  be  able  to  have  the  procession 
now^"  asked  Susan. 

"Ves,"  said  Michael.  "3Iake  him  go  in 
front  of  you,  Nieder.  Vou  go  next,  Susan, 
and  ril  carry  the  clothes." 

When  they  got  tiie  prisoner  to  the  barn  they 
I)ut  the  suit  on  him.  It  seemed  to  Susan  and 
Xiedcr  that  they  wei'e  merely  making  gestures, 
but  ^lichael  was  conscious  that  he  was  draff- 
ging  the  clothes  over  limp  arms  and  legs. 
After  that  was  done  they  realized  it  was  tea- 
time,  and  started  home  in  a  great  hurry.  Su- 
san was  the  first  one  to  say  good  night.  She 
(limbed  the  fence  and  ran  liome  across  the 
fields.  Michael  and  Xieder  ran  on  down  the 
load  till  ^Michael  came  to  his  father's  gate, 
when  he  said  good  night  and  went  in.  It  was 
very  comfortable  to  be  there,  going  across  the 
wide  bare  field  to  the  new  house,  which  had 
been  finished  last  Saturday.  ^Michael  was 
(on\  inced  that  thei-e  never  would  be  another 
day  so  happy  as  last   Saturday.     They  had 

49 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

si)t.nt  it  fj^atliering  up  shavings,  and  they  liad 
made  the  first  fire  in  their  firephiee.  ^lichael's 
oidy  regret  was  tliat  it  eouhl  not  happen  again. 
Of  eourse  Satunhiy  would  keep  on  coming, 
])ut  Last  Saturchiy  was  gone,  and  could  only 
l)e  reclaimed  in  the  useless,  tantalising  form 
of  a  memory.  However,  it  was  still  interest- 
ing and  exciting,  as  well  as  comfortahle,  to 
he  coming  home  to  the  new  log  house,  and  the 
smoke  from  the  stone  chi'nney  convinced  liim 
that  there  Avould  he  something  good  and  hot 
for  tea.  He  started  to  run — then  suddenly 
rememhered  the  prisoner  chained  up  in  the  hox 
stall,  with  nothing  to  eat,  and  no  fire  to  warm 
him.  But  then,  no  fii'c  could  warm  any  one 
so  wretched  as  a  prisoner,  and  it  would  he  far 
hetter  to  cat  nothing  than  to  have  your  food 
hrouyht  to  vou  under  such  circumstances. 
For  a  few  miiuites  Michael's  hunger  struggled 
with  these  retiections.  It  was  so  keen  that  it 
seemed  to  him  he  could  scarcely  manage  to 
endure  it  till  he  got  across  tlic  field  to  the  house, 
hut  all  this  time  the  prisoner  was  too  unhappy 
to  be  hungiy.     The  sun  was  going  severely 

50 


THE  PRISONER  IX  THE  RARV 


down  out  of  a  grey  sky,  uitli  oarcly  an  at- 
tcnii)t  at  a  .t-luw,  as  il'  to  (.'iiipliasize  this  de- 
pressing- fact. 

The  tea  was  warm  and  dehcious,  but  Mi- 
cliael  felt  as  cold  after  it  as  I)ef()rc,  for  the 
prisoner  was  sitting  in  the  box  stall  with  those 
iron  things  on  him.     If  it  had  only  been  one 
of  themsehes  who  was  the  j)risoner,  he  could 
have  come  home  and  liad  his   tea,  and  that 
would  have  been  the  end  of  it.     But  instead, 
the  victim  was  a  poor  unfortunate  ima^n'riarv 
person,  and  would  have  to  stav  there  all  nioht 
iVfter   tea   he   sat   down   by   the   fire   to   get 
w  armed,  but  the  logs  were  making  a  monoto- 
nous, joyless  sound,  as  though  they  had  pain.^ 
■somewhere  inside  of  them.    That  sound  seemed 
to  embody  the  prisoner's  state  of  mind.     He 
;ot  up  and  began  to  look  around  for  shavings, 
riiey  were  the  most  delightful  things  to  find, 
although  he  could  never  discover  a  good  enough 
use  for  them,  any  more  than  lie  could  for  corn 
silk.     There    were    none    to    be    found    now, 
tlinugh;  they  had  all  been  gathered  up  and 
burned.     When  his  father  wanted  to  know  how 

51 


'I' 


I 


Tin:  (ILOllV  AM)  TIIK  nUKAM 

f:ir  lie  fonld  coiml  lie  siiatclu'd  en,n;crly  id  lliat 
(iishiution,  and  succeeded  in  eountiii^n-  iij)  t<'  a 
hundred.  He  was  eon^ciou^  that  he  would 
have  felt  vci'v  triun)i>hant  on  any  other  eve- 
ning!,". 

lie  was  still  cold  whru  he  went  to  oed,  al- 
thou.nh  his  ['athcT  uot  t)ut  a  (juill  for  him,  with 
J'unny  pink  thin.n's  on  it,  which,  he  decided, 
nuist  he  do.LVs  (they  were  intended  for  niorn- 
inii"  nlorics).  He  wondered  if  Dukeland 
would  ha\i'  driven  away  the  man  hefore  they 
had  taken  him  prisoner  if  hi,'  had  heen  a  pink 
(]()<j;  instead  of  a  j^reen  one.  lie  wished  he 
had  made  him  do  it.  But  then,  Dukeland 
wouldn't,  a'<  lon.u  as  the  man  didn't  yell,  and 
he  never  could  ^ij,et  the  man  to  yell.  He  had 
tried  often  enough. 

The  next  mornin,i;'  at  hreakfast  Michael  left 
what  he  i)articularly  <  njo\ed  when  he  was 
],.ippy— the  top  part  of  the  e^-^'  with  the  white 
m  it.  He  had  found  out  hy  this  time  that 
whatever  he  particularly  enjoyed  uhen  he  was 
happy,  hurt  him  particularly  when  he  was  un- 
happy.    He  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  hrought  it 

0-2 


THE  PRISONER  IX  THE  RAHX 


iij)  to  the  old  house  as  a  treat  for  the  itivahd 
coni-eohs.  He  liojud  he  would  he  there  hefore 
eitlier  of  the  other  two,  for  he  must  Kt  that 
prisoner  out.  Jle  round  uohody  there,  and 
ina(  e  straight  lor  the  harn.  The  ho\  stall  was 
(lar  :,  hut  he  lelt  sure  he  eould  make  out  a 
strij)e(l  suit  in  one  eoi'iier,  and  renienihered 
that  Xieder  jiad  said:— "We'll  tic  1 


uni  uj)  here, 


or 


so  he  ean't  lie  (h)wn."  He  went  into  the  c 
ner  and  took  the  iron  things  oil"  the  hands  and 
(Vet  of  the  i)risoner,  who  sat  (piite  still,  and 
did  not  stir  till  Miehael  was  done,  and  had 
stepped  haek.  Then  he  walked  strait^ht  out 
and  did  not  look  at  Miehael  onee.  .Miehael 
followed  him  meeklv  to  the  tioor.      lie  wished 


he  had 


a  right  to  expeet  him  to  he  ••rateful  for 


hein<r  set  fre^:,  hut  he  knew  he  hadn't,  after 
lulpino'  to  eapture  him.  He  suddenly  re- 
-Miemhered  that  Susan  and  Xieder  woidd  likely 
want  to  eateli  him  a<jfain.  He  mi,nht  overeome 
Susan  l)y  endowin<r  her  hosj)ital  with  the 
dainty  in  his  poeket,  altliouoh  he  douhted 
whether  that  would  have  mueh  weight  with 
her  if  Xieder  held  out  the  hope  of  another  pro- 

53 


|ii 


Tin:  (iLOllV  AM)  Tin:  DUl'.A.M 

cession.  "Rut  liis  pcrplcxitirs  vanislicd  when 
he  looked  at  thf  strijxd  l):ick  rctiralin^-  (Hiifkly 
;m:l  (juictly  throiiuli  the  weedy  yiink  At  that 
late  tlie  man  would  l)e  well  away  froni  the  hill- 
side in  liii  minutes,  and  Susan  and  Nied' r 
mi'dit  search  as  hard  as  thev  lik<(l;  Miehad 
was  satisfied  thev  would  never  find  him  a<;ain. 


54 


CIIArXEU  V 


A  TU.Ari'I.TUOl'S  PRIVAC  V  OF  STOi  AI 


1  ; 
it 


Tiir.iu;  fame  a  day  wlicii  Susan  and  Miclmel 
and  Xifder  could  not  meet.  It  was  a  blizzard, 
and  the  lii^li  northwest  wind  was  likely  to 
freeze  tender  little  eai-s  and  noses  with  ap- 
jialiin^  rapidity,  so  each  oi'  the  three  ')lay- 
iiiates  was  kept  indoors.  Michael  rather  en- 
joyed this;  it  V  as  like  Sunday.  Sunday  was 
the  one  day  in  the  week  when  his  fatlier  clahned 
his  companionshij),  and  in  some  ways  ^lichael 


found  him  a  much 


l)ett 


er  eomi)anion  tnan  eitlier 


th 


ith 


Susan  or  Xieder.  The  snow  thrashed  against 
the  pa[)er  window  ])anes,  the  wind  howled 
around  the  liouse,  while  a  f>reat  fire  glowed  in 
the  ii replace,  which  his  father  had  to  feed  con- 
stantly, lie  also  had  to  chop  a  plentiful 
sup[)ly  of  wood,  and  attend  to  the  horses,  but 
he  found  time  to  play  a  game  of  tag  with  Mi- 

55 


i 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

chad  before  it  was  time   to  prepare  dinner. 
Wlien  lie  settled  down  to  sober  potato  peelin<,^ 
J^liebael  returned  to  bis  villa[>e  of  ebii)s  and 
bark,  wbieb  was  spread  out  on  tlie  stone  hearth. 
A    short,    stout,    linht-eoloured   chip   was   the 
Saesanaeh  policeman,  and  a  big  wet  piece  of 
bark  was  the  jail,  under  whleli  lay  several  pa- 
triotic citizens  who  had  incurred  the  displeasure 
of  the  policeman.     A  pnece  of  white  birch  bark, 
with  two  big  chips  and  some  little  ones  under 
it,  represented  a  home,  liKe  Miehaers  own  be- 
fore liis  mother  died  and  the  three  black  friends 
to(jk  possession;  a  piece  of  grey  Ijark  covering 
a  number  of  grey  chips  all  as  much  alike  as 
he   could  get  them,  was  a  monastery:   little 
flecks  of  birch  bark  sprinkled   about   every- 
where were  the  fairies.     Just  as  his  father  had 
come  in  and  suggested  a  game  of  tag,  the 
l)oliceman  was  getting  the  worse  of  a  tussle 
with  a   remarkably   vigorous  patriot   he   had 

eantured. 

When  Michael  returned  from  the  game  he 
found  the  policeman  dead,  to  his  great  joy  and 
exultation;  the  victorious  patriot  marched  to 

56 


A  PRIVACY  or  STORM 


the  jail  and  released  the  pii.suners,  and  then 
there  was  a  grand  proeession  of  all  tlie  vil- 
la<i;ers,  wliieli  extended  the  whole  len<4th  of 
the  hearth,  while  the  dead  polieeniaa  lay  be- 
side his  rilled  jail.  His  father  eanie  to  the 
fireplaee  just  then  to  put  the  potatoes  on  the 
ei'ane,  and  looked  down  with  astonishment  at 
tile  row  of  ehips  and  ^MiehacTs  intent  attitude, 
his  shinin^j;-  eyes  fixed  upon  t'  em,  and  his  cheeks 
a  liei'v  crimson. 


'Wkat   does   this   mean,    Michael  f"   he 


in- 


iKillX'l 


'"Patrick  O'Mahony  has  killed  the  police- 
man I"  cried  ^licliael  excitedly. 

"Who  is  Patrick  O^Mahonyf' 

'■(^ne  of  the  ijjood  men  the  Sacsanach  police- 
man was  puttin<^'  in  jail.  He  was  too  strong 
for  him.  and  he  killed  him!" 

Tlie  ring  of  exultation  "o  Michael's  voice 
iirought  a  responsive  glo  into  his  father's 
lace,     "(iood  l*atrick!"'  he  exclaimed  heartily. 

After  dinner  ^lichael  got  the  l)ig  natural 
iiistory  bock  out,  and  looked  at  all  the  pictures, 
.uul  wondered  whether  it  would  be  more  de- 


f      Ml 


ot 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

lightful  to  find  a  lion  in  the  woods,  and  kill 
liini  before  he  had  a  cliance  to  find  Susan  and 
Xicdcr  and  eat  tiieni  up.  or  to  find  an  elephant 
and  tame  him  and  rule  on  his  i)aek  in  that 
sort  of  liouse  tliin^-.     If  you  could  only  get 
far   enough   into   tlie   woods,   you  might  en- 
counter any  of  those  wonderful  creatures.     Or 
a  stork  night  come  and  build  on  your  chim- 
ney;  aiiy^uiy,    if   you   watched   enough,   you 
would  be  sure  to  see  one  flying  past  on  its  way 
to  somebody's  house  with  a  l)aby.     Nieder  had 
liad  a  stork  on  his  chimney,  over  in  Germany ; 
it  had  been  very  useful,  for  it  ate  up  all  the 
mice  and  rats.     Michael  could  not  extract  any 
more  interesting  information  from  him  than 
that,  but  he   was   sure   tliere  v>ere  plenty  of 
wonderful    tilings    to    find    out    about    storks. 
lie  filled  in  the  colours  of  all  tlie  animals  from 
his  imagination— the  tiger's  golden  and  black, 
the  storks  white  feathers  and  red  legs  and  bill, 
and  the  brilliant  i)lu}nage  of  some  of  the  other 
birds.     The  black  and  white  woodcuts  some- 
times obtruded  themselves  and  blotted  out  all 
tliis  gorgeous  colouring,  but  he  could  always 

58 


A  PRIVArV  OF  STORM 


banisli  them  rapidly  and  sternly.  He  Avas  in- 
terrupted in  this  ahsorhiiio-  ()c'eii])ati()n  hy  a 
sudden  sun.  of  snow  that  hi-oke  in  through  the 
window  pan".  It  was  delinhtful  to  liavo  a  hit 
of  the  stonn  hurst  in— it  emi)hasi/ed  the  eoni- 


I'ort  of  the  liouse,  and  it 


was  fun  to  wateh  the 


j)ane  hein;"-  fixed  ui)  auain 


me  oeing  nxeU  up 

When  it  heo-an  to  he  dark,  and  the  alow  of 


the  fire  was  more  eomfortahle  tha 


n  ever,  his 


fatl 


ler  sugges 


sted 


son  us. 


S 


in,<>in«''  was  one  ol 


'11 


the  nice  things  they  did  together  on  Sunday. . 
ley  went  over  to  the  great  harp  in  the  cor- 
ner, whose  strings  gleamed  fitfully  in  the  lire- 
light,  M-hile  "the  wooden  lady  with  no  clothes," 
as  Michael  called  the  sea  maiden  which  fornied 
the  frame,  was  hidden  in  darkness.     His  I'ath 


er 


touched  the  strinj 


i's,  and  the  hi<>-  oolden  souii(h 


Avhich  made  Michael  feel  suddenly  warm  in- 
side, and  luippy  in  a  I'unny  sort  of  way,  as  if 
lie  was  going  to  cry,  hegan.  There  were  a  few 
of  Moore's  melodies  within  the  compass  of  his 
infant  voice;  "Erin,  the  tear  and  the  smile  in 
ihine  eye"  was  his  favourite.  The  words  had 
no  meaning  for  him,  hut  their  sweetness,  and 

59 


THE  GLOllY  AND  TIIH  DUE.UI 

the  tender  heanty  of  the  nu4o(ly,  filled  him 
Avith  satist'aetion  to  tlie  innermost  reeesses  of 
his  little  heino-.  "I  wish  there  was  more;'  he 
said  wlien  he  had  finished.  "I  hate  stopping." 
"Try  'The  Last  Rose  of  Summer'  now,"  his 
father'said.  So  Miehael  sang  it,  and  then  his 
I'athev  sang  "The  Harp  of  Tara."  Miehael 
did  not  altogether  understand  that  song  either: 
hut  when  his  father  sang: 

"Thus  fiTcdom  now  so  stldom  wakes 
The  only  ihroh  slir  gives 
Is  wlkii  some  luart  indignant  breaks 
To  show  that  still  slie  lives." 

he  felt  as  if  this  was  too  sad  and  dreadful  to 
he  en(hn-ed.  and  something  seemed  to  he 
swelliuLi-  in  his  eliest  as  if  it  was  going  to  si)lit 
with  ang-  pain.  "Oft  in  the  Stilly  Night" 
followed,  and  >liehael  nnderstood  that  song. 
The  words, 

'When  I  renifniber  all 

The   triends.  so  linked   together, 
I've  seen  around  me   fall 

Like  leaves   iu   wintry  weather, 
I    leel  like  one 

00 


A  PRIVACY  OF  STORM 

Who  treads  alone 
Some  haiKjuct  Iiall  (liM,rtLil. 

WIio.se  lights  arc  tl(  d 

Whose  garlaiuK  dead 
And  all   but  he  departed. " 

seemed  to  reveal  to  liiin  Avilh  sudden,  inex- 
orable eleame.ss  the  hitherto  unreal  .un'^vn  up 
future.     lie  tasted  the  sorrow  and  loneliness 


of  ai>-e,  knew  it  lav  before  1 


lini  and  eould  not 


be  avoided.     If  he  had  ever  thouoht  of  his 
manhood  before,  it  had  onlv  1 


)een  m  a  vamie 


1 


and  futile  attempt  to  jjicture  himself  with  long 
egs  in  trousers,  when  he  had  no  better  oecuj)a- 
tinn  for  his  thoughts.  Xow  he  realized  him.self 
as  an  old  man — Susan  and  Xieder  gone,  e\  en 
his  precious  father  gone— felt  the  vain,  sick 
pang  of  desolation.  Foitunately  the  nn'rajTc. 
if  clear,   was   brief:   Bri 


m  Eoroimhe's  march 


■speedily  bani.shed  it.     Tiien  tl 


icre  was  the  de- 


light of  making  toast  r  .r  tea  by  that  great, 
glowing  fire,  and  -etting  it  just  the  righ.t 
golden  brown.  :\lichael  liked  all  his  coloin-s 
just  right.  The  smell  of  the  toast,  tlie  cosiness 
of  the  table  by  the  fire,  the  pleasure  of  his 

Gl 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

fatlicr's  coiiM'anionslii]).  were  joys  so  potent 
that  all  the  eiiemv  of  his  nature  xvas  re.iuired  to 
appreciate  them.      Then,  after  tea.  his  father 
sat  down  aiul  tuhl   l.iii.   stories,  in  then-  (Avn 
whisperin-,     swisl'.m-.     eerie     ton-ne,      that 
throbbed  like  a  heart  (piiverinu'  under  the  close 
pressure     of     surrounding    mysteries.     They 
were  stories  of  fairies  and  w.mders,  and   Mi- 
chael drank  them  in  thirstily,  ea-erly.     The 
love  of  the  wonderful  was  in  his  bloo.l  beat 
lu.tly  in  evcrv  vein  in  his  body,  and  his  father 
fcd'and  fostered  it.     \Vhen  bedtime  came  he 
was  wrapped  up  and  tucked  in  with  especial 
care.     "It's  Canadian  weather  we  are  j>'"i\2J 
to  have  now.  son  of  my  heart."  said  his  father, 
and   the   tone   lie   used   sent   a   shiver  of   joy 
through  Michael.     C^madian  weather  was  evi- 
dently   somethino-   ominous— but    it    v.  as   also 
something  new,  untried,  and  Michael  was  ready 
to  meet  it  with  deli<j;ht. 


62 


CITAPTER  VI 


nii:i)i:r  s  .mothi-.r 


V 


Xkxt  nioriiinu;  Michael  A\as  cai^'cr  to  ^o  out, 
althou^li  liis  I'atlier  came  .stain[)ii)^'  in  with 
hunched  shoulders  and  a  stiff,  red  face,  indica- 
tive of  anything)-  hut  enjc'^'nient;  he  stamped 
II])  to  the  lire,  spi-ead  out  liis  hands  over  it 
and  exclaimed: — '1  never  dreamed  of  such 
weather!" 

'1  want  to  go  out,"  said  Michael,  eagerly 
seizing  his  o\er-socks  and  heginning  to  pidl 
them  on. 

"Well,  ^Michael,  I  sup})ose  you'll  have  to  get 
hardened  to  this,  hut — "  his  father  gave  him  a 
long  and  douhtful  look. 

"I  want  to  see  what  it's  like,"  said  ]\lichael. 

''Vou'll  see,  as  soon  as  you  get  your  nose 
outside  the  door,"  was  the  grim  re])ly. 

^Michael  had  never  been  so  muHled  up  in  all 


HIS 


lif( 


Ih 


e  as  lie  was  mis  iiiorning 
63 


Onl 


v  a  pair 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

of  n-reat,  liinpid  hivv  eyes,  a  nose  and  a  rosy 
hint  ol'  checks  hidden  somewhere  in  an  envelop- 
in^'  shawl  were  visible  as  he  ran  out. 

It  certaiidy  was  dill'ercnt  i'loui  anythin.u'  he 
had  ever  known  hel'ore.     Every tliin.t;-  was  so 
^vhitc,  so  hri-ht.  so  si  ilk  he  hardly  reeoonised 
■;he  I'aniiliar  scene.     There  was  so  much  snow. 
AVhy,  as  he  ran  ak)ni;-  the  path  to  the  ^atc,  he 
coukl  just  see  over  the  tt^p  of  it.     There  was 
something-  very  (pieer  in  the  air.     He  hail  so 
many   clothes   on   that   he   had   not   supposed 
he  would  I'eel  eohl,  hut  hy  the  time  he  reached 
the  -^ate  he  felt  somethin.u-  .ux'ttin,^'  throu<,di  at 
his  fin<4ers,  although  he  had  his  father's  mitts 
on    over   his    own.     Then   he    felt    it    netting 
through  at  his  feet. 

Susan's  gate  was  just  om^osite  his,  and  a 
path  had  I'en  ploughed  between  them.  Su- 
san was  standing  on  the  path,  and  had  just 
discovered  the  woful  fact  tliat  it  ended  at  their 
gates.  "Oh,  Michael!"  she  cried.  "We  cati't 
<.-et  UD  to  the  UebeVs  House!  The  road 
doesn't  go  on;  1  tried  to  get  through  the  sihjw, 
and  I  went  down  and  down  till  1  thought  I 

04 


MKDKirS  MOTIirU 


was  goiiii^"  to  be  diouiicd.  See,  Tin  all  snow 
away  U[)  past  my  wai^t." 

"And  Dnkeland  had  nolliinji;'  to  eat  all  day 
\ester(lav!  AN'^e've  <''ot  to  <'ive  him  his  break- 
last,"  said  Miehael,  in  dismay. 

".Vnd  I  wanted  to  have  sehool  up  there  to- 
day. Mother  told  me  all  about  sehool — "  Su- 
san saw  it  was  useless  to  eontinue,  i'or  ]Mieliael 
was  shoutin<;':  "Dukeland!  Dukeland!  Duke- 
landT' 

'■()h,  he's  comini^!"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  tone 
of  relief.  'lie  is  so  green  on  tlie  snow!  lie's 
coming  like  a  streak,  he  must  be  awfully 
hungry.  Here,  Dukeland!"  ^liehacl  shook 
(iff  his  father's  mitt,  at  which  Susan  l)urst  out 
laughing,  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  drew  out 
an  imaginary  slice  of  bread,  and  held  it  for 
Dukeland  to  eat.  He  was  glad  Dukeland  was 
hungry  and  gobbled  the  bread,  for  he  could  not 
have  stood  having  his  father's  mitt  off  long. 
"Mv  hands  hurt!"  he  said  as  he  picked  it  up 


auam. 


"Come  into  the  henhouse  and  warm 
niv  bantv  hen,"  said  Susan. 

65 


them 


on 


Tin:  (;l()UV  and  tiik  dream 

As  tlicy  made  their  May  to  Susan's  iRnhousc 
Micluul  hcranic  aware  that  liis  tVct  hurt  too. 
Whin  tlicy  canu'  in.  the  hanty  hcii  was  siltin,<;' 
on  a  nt^t.     "rut  your  hand  under  licr  wiu,^'," 

said  Susan. 

Micliacl  i)ulU<l  oil'  h..th  mitts,  and  thou-^lit 
his  hand  a  luiuiy  colour.  He  went  up  to  the 
hanty  hen,  hut  just  as  lie  was  o-,)in^-  to  put  his 
hand  under  her  win^'  she  Hew  otf  cackling'. 
She  was  used  to  Susan's  hand,  hut  not  to  Mi- 

chaehs. 

"Come    into   the   stahle   and   we'll   try   the 

cow,"  said  Susan. 

The  eow  was  lyini;-  down,  and  she  let  the 
children  snu.uKle  uj)  to  her,  one  on  each  side, 
and  warm  their  hands  in  lier  hair.  It  was 
very  coml'ortal)le  for  Micluars  hands,  hut  his 
I'eet  hurt  worse  than  ever. 

Tresently  Susan's  father  came  in  with  a 
pitchfork.  "Susan!"'  he  exclaimed.  "What 
are  you  doln.u-  there?  (iet  up  out  of  tliat  at 
oncJ,  and  ilon't  ever  let  mc  lind  such  u  thing 


auaui 


r' 


"Michael's  hands  were  cold,  and  I  hrought 


(10 


MF.DKirs  MO'l  iir.u 


liiiii  ill  1(1  w.inii  tliciM  Mil  tl.f  l);iMty  Ikii.  hut 
.sli'  !lt\v  ;.\vay,  M)  1  luuim'lit  liiin  'ii  lid'c,"  Su- 
.san  f.\|)laiiR'(l. 

"MidiacJ  \V!ii:rc'.«,  Miiluu.lr  I  (loii'l  sec 
liim." 

"rill  (»ii  llu'  ollu  r  sidf."'  said  Mi  liatl,  ris- 
ing, and  ri\t;ai"(lin!4-  S^l^a^^.s  t'atlur  witli  iii- 
ri'est.  He  stdod  iij)  so  strai^lit,  Michael 
thought  he  must  have  Im  n  a  sold'er  once,  and 
Ci-oin  Ills  Avay  'f  talkiii<4'  he  thought  lie  must  he 
used  to  kilhiig-  j)eoi  le.  "He  su't  as  u'ee  as 
my  father,"  was  his  i)r(  inp't  conc'usicii,  alter 
a  moment's  earnest  set    'it    ■. 

"So  you're  the  wonderlul  ^IieIlael!"  said 
Susan's  lather. 

"I'm  not  wonderful,''  said  Michael,  rai'^in^• 
a  pair  of  nra\  ely  re/j^ietful  eyes.  "1  have 
never  kilkd  a   lion,  or  done  anything'." 

"Xever  done  anvthingf  Y(mi  ought  to  he 
ashamed  of  vourself!  ^Vhel'  I  was  vour  aye 
I  did  all  the  milkin',  aiid  there  \\tre  seven  or 
eight  cows  too.  J  was  tuo  husy  to  use  them 
for  warmin'  pans.  1  had  enough  to  do  to  kee]) 
me  warm!     If   1    liad   doiie   nothing  hut   bit 

67 


Tin:  (ii.nuv  AM)  Tin:  niu.AM 

cMii-K.!  nplRsi.lr  Ihr  enu-  liU  ll.r  slal.k'  kitten, 
,ny  rallurw.M.ldiri  luivc  llu.u-iil  luc  \v..rlli  my 
|„;.,,,|,  anaiicu..ul(lliavcl.Mt  ii.r  in  a  Ini.u  aiul 
carried  nir  (plV  I"  Hu'  wncds  and  l«'st  nic'/ 

Mic'luul  l.c-an  I..  ll>inU  Susan  came  ..!'  a 
sava-c  slnek.  ''l  hkiUc  toast  tor  lea,"  he 
ui'ued  in  stlf-derenee. 

-Oh,  do  vouf  What  a  lull)  yon  nuist  he  to 
your  rather!  I  supix.se  that  k.ives  him  nolh- 
int;'  to  (h)  luit  sit  and  read  liis  paper." 

"N(..  lie  (k)es  h)ts  of  other  thin^^s.  lie  at- 
l,„ds  to  the  horses  and  keeps  the  lire  f-oin- 
and  conks  th.e  (hmier." 

-And   you   just    make    tlie   toast,   do   yon? 
What  a  usel'ul  hoy  yon  are!" 

Michael  had  never  hetore  come  across  the 
kind  ol'  person  uho^e  only  notion  of  making 
l,i,nseir  a-reeahle  to  ehihlren  is  to  tease  them, 
,nd  Nvateh  the  look  that  <-onies  over  their  o-ravc 
innocent  faces  as  if  it  were  the  hn-'est  joke 
in  the  world.  Susati  knew  how  this  was  meant, 
and  was  lanohin-.  and  Michael  thonoht  she 
was  lanohin-  at  him.  He  suddenly  tlew  into 
a  passion  and  dashed  .)nt  of  the  stahle,  h-ht- 

(;8 


MKDKirs  MUTIIKIl 


iii'T  l);u'k  aiiijrv  sobs,  ajid  forget tltm'  both  lii> 


<) 


s\ii  mitts  and  his  I'atlicr 


Susan  rail  alter 


liiiii  \\i 


th  tl 


ICIll. 


'"Michatl,  here  art'  your  four  mitts,"  she 
called,  still  lau^hin^'. 

.Michael  glared  at  her. 

"Tm  iicNcr  coMiin<>'  to  see  vou  anv  more. 
I'm  iic\er  t^oin;^'  to  speak  to  you  any  luoix!" 
he  ci'ied.  He  fluu^'  the  mitts  dowji  aud 
stamped  on  them,  then  took  one  of  his  own  and 
lore  it  in  his  teeth. 

Susan  had  often  liad  (juarrels  with  Xieder, 
l)ut  Jw  had  never  hehaved  like  this.  She  was 
terrified,  and  changed  from  lauuhter  to  tears. 


\V 


IV  are  xou  so  an^rv  with  me 


siie  sol) 


bed. 


1  l)i'()u<>ht  vou  in — to  warm  v-vou — on — the 


cow 


"Vou  huiijjhed  at  me.  Your  father  scolded 
me  for  not  workin<4',  and  1  don't  see  why  lie 
should  bother  about  whether  I  work  or  not. 
He  said  my  father  only  read  his  [)a[)er,  and  my 
lather  does  lots  of  thiri^s!" 

'"AVhy,  Michael,  he  was  only  teasin<^,  and  1 
was  laughing  at  him." 

09 


TIIK  GLOUV  AND  TIIK  DRl.AM 

"At  /////;.'"  Tlicre  was  sdiiulhin.u;  unheard 
of  and  monstrous  to  Micluul  in  the  idea  of 
lauL>hin,!U'  at  one's  father. 

'•1  mean-al  liis  fun.  It  was  only  for  fun 
—lie  talks  to  n.e  like  that-all  the  tiniel" 

'•My  father  never  talks  like  that/'  said  Mi- 
chael. 

.lust  then  Susan's  father  came  out. 
"Whafs  all  this  ahoutr  Miehad.  are  you  a 
]„,ni  fool  to  stand  out  there  with  no  mitts  on? 
Susan,  what  are  you  cryin.u'  ahout  r" 

'■Susan's  father,  I  did.n't  understand  that 
-r>u  were  teasin-.  My  i^^'her  has  a  nice  way 
of  teasiuK  that  makes  you  know  he  doesn't 
mean  it.      I  ,U«>t  mad."  explained  Michael.  ^ 

Susan's  f.ather  hurst  out  lau-hin,u-.  "Km- 
deutlv  you  did.  or  you  wouldn't  stand  outside 
on  a  zero  morninu  in  your  hare  hands.  Susan, 
y,ni  L'-el  your  sle<l  and  take  him  sli.lin-  down- 
iiill.  '  Thai    will    warm    him    uj)    hetUr    man 

cows." 

At  the  mention  of  slidinu'  downhill  Mi- 
chael's mood  und.rweid  one  of  its  uiany  li^i-ht- 
nin-  chan-es,  and  an-er  was  iKUiished  hy  eager 

70 


xiEDER's  :\i()Tin:ii 


joy 


OiK'c  or   Iwi'-e  liclore,   when   there  was 
11  in  llic  environs  of  CMad- 


in  unnsual  snowla 


(la^^h,  he  had  known  the  rajfture  oi"  sliding 
(iownliill.  The  '^\ovy  of  this  i)rosi)eet  could 
not  he  (linin;ed  even  hy  tlie  painful  fact  that 
his  hands  hurt  worse  than  e\er,  and  his  feet 
i'(  It  as  if  the  toes  had  eeascd  to  he  "on^-  to  cheni. 


He  put  on  his  mitts  and  ran  after  Susan 
ni)|)cr  i)ai-t  of  the  harn,  from  which  she  i)i 


the 


o- 


(hux'd  two  sU\ls.  for  she  was 


the  onlv  child  of 


prospei-ous  ])arents,  and  was  in  the  conse(iuent 
state  of  allluence.  They  went  out  on  the  road, 
and  slid  all  the  way  dosvn  the  hill  to  tlie  shore 
of  the  river,  where  they  were  a])ruptly  pitched 
forwai'd  into  a  snow  Ijank,  just  opposite  Nie- 


<iatc.  Thev  rolled  ahout,  kiekino-  and 
scuillino-  and  lau.uhinu"  till  they  were  almost 
helpless  to  .L-et  up,  hut  when  they  linally 
did    so,    Michael   once   more    hecame   sharply 


ler's 


loo 


iware  of  the  condition  o 


f  his  hands  and  feet. 


He  had  taken  off  his  father's  mitts  so  that  he 
could  handle  the  sled,  and  he  now  had  cause 
to  l)itterly  regret  the  mitt  he  had  torn  in  his 
teeth      They  stood  looking  at  Xieder's  house. 

71 


THE  {;lo:iv  and  the  drea:m 

It  was  a  little  <;-rei'n  house,  and  looked  very 
jiretty  with  snow  on  the  roof.  "If  I  didn't 
know  it  was  just  Xieder  live,  in  that  house,  I 
^vould  tiiink  it  was  fairy  people,"  said  Michael. 
It  was  inipossihle  to  eonneet  any  clamour  of 
romance  with  Xieder,  even  thoui^h  he  had  once 
had  a  stork's  ne.t  on  his  chimney. 

"Let's  <^o  in  and  t^^et  him,"  said  Susan. 
Thev  went  up  to  the  door  of  the  fairy-like 
"■rcen  house  and  raii,i>,-  the  hell.  Xieder's 
mother  came  to  the  door.  "Susan I"  she  ex- 
claimed. "Is  it  you.  out  on  such  a  monnn<^?" 
"Ves,  Michael  and  I  are  sliding  downhill, 
and  we  fame  to  get  Xieder." 

"Xieder  cannot  go  out  on  such  a  morning. 
So  this  is  MichaeU     Child,  what  for  do  you 

cry '. 

"1  am  not  crying,"  said  Michael,  making  a 
brave  eifort  to  speak  in  a  normal  tone.  "But 
my  hands  hurt,  and  my  toes  don't  belong  to 
my  feet  any  more." 

"You  poor  little  man!"  exclaimed  Xieder's 
motlier.  "It  is  not  right  for  so  small  childs  to 
be  out  in  such  cold.     Couic  in  and  become 

72 


MKDi.irs  Muri  11:11 


\v:ii-iiic(l,  rather  than  you  should  take  Xieder 
out  to  hfcoiiie  I'l'cc/cd." 

.Michael  lost  no  time  in  o1)evin;4-,  Imt  Sus^.n 


loUow 


e(!  \<'du  reluetantlv 


Ini  not  I'old,''  she 


sau 


I.     "lie    has    hecii    cold    all    niornin<j;.     1 


\\arn,e( 


1  li 


ini  on  the  cow 


and  then  1  th()U<>-ht 


he  and  Xieder  and  I  could  slide  downhill.      I 
want  to  ^lide  downhilll"' 

"Micluiel  ni-ist  he  warmed  first,"  said  Xic- 
drr's  mother  with  ^rcat  decision.  She  led  him 
into  a  sunny  little  room,  where  Xieder's  father 
"^at  close  up  to  the  stove,  and  Xieder  was  hend- 
inn-  over  a  })icture  hook.      She  said  somcthiiin- 


to  ll 


em,  m  wo 


rds  that  were  neither  Irish  nor 


l-'n.ulish.  They  sounded  something-  like  pill- 
ions talking-,  and  sometirm,!^  like  necse.  Xie- 
der'.-, father  ulanccd  at  the  children,  giunted. 


and 


went  on  w 


ith  1 


lis  sniokinn 


S 


usan 


went 


over  heside  Xieder  to  look  at  the  picture  l)ook, 
;iiid  Xieder's  mother  set  Michael  do»vn  on  a 


chair  and  un^'d  his  manitold  wrappings,  sim 


hi 


il- 


inu'  a 


were 


t  tl 


le 


iin 


isv  in.u'cnnitv  with  which  tliey 


i'as.'.ned.     "Some  time  I  hope  to  find  a 
little  bov,  but  vet  I  can  onlv  li'al  shawls  and 

78 


THE  GLORY  AND  Till'    DRKAM 


mufflers,"  slic  said.  Hut  liually  she  not  tlicni 
all  uudouc.  and  disclosed  a  hcautilul  little  faee 
(hcautilul  in  si)itc  of  a  i)lue  complexion)  with 
the  clear  l)ro\v  sternly  knitted,  the  lips,  line 
and  stion;^-  in  spite  of  their  hahy  softness, 
drawn  and  rii;id  in.  piteous  endurance,  and 
tears  tilling'  the  lovely  eyes.  Slie  took  oil'  his 
mitts  next,  and  on  seein^n*  his  hands,  ex- 
claimed:—"Je//.  dii  (innt's  Kind:"  Th.en 
added:— "Von  are  frosthitten  where  your  aiitt 
was  torn.  Susan,  run  out  at  once  and  ^et  a 
dish  of  snow!" 

'•Did  Jack  Frost  hite  me,  and  1  never  saw 
liimf"  exclaimed  Michael. 

"lie  did  indeed,  he  hit  your  l)ooi  hand." 
"It  nuist  have  heen  wlim  I  was  mad,  and  I 
never  saw  him  I     I    wan!    to   sec  a    fairy.     I 
would  rather  it  was  a  l)eautiful  fairy,  hut  Jaciv 
Frost  would  do." 

"Von      silly  I"      exclaimed      Susan.     "Jack 

Frost  oidy  helon.i^s  in  ])ieturcs,  he  isn't  real." 

"liut  he  l)it  my  hand."  Michael  replied. 

Xieder's  mother  lau,uhed.      She  was  hy  this 

time  ruhhing  the  hand  with  snow,  which  seemed 

7dt 


MKDKK'S  MOTHER 


to  Michael  very  I'liniiy.  "Wait  till  he  liitcs 
jiou,  liaiKi,"  she  said  to  Misan,  and  see  it'  nou 
w'xW  say  he  is  i    it  I'eall" 

As  the  hurt  went  out  of  Mieh-ael's  hands,  it 
was  ,ra<!ually  horne  ax  en  hiiu  that  he  liKed 
Xieder's  mother.     He  lo\ed  her  to  t;ilk.     lie 


han  loi'^olten  u 


hit 


;i  nice  \\a\-  ni'illiers 


had 


oi 


talking'.  She  had  a  (|ueei'  \\ay  of  saying'  e\ery 
word  earel'ully.  and  when  she  said  words  that 
ended  in  r  she  seemed  to  make  them  loni;',  and 
ndcd  hiij  and  I  htek.      IJnt  that  wasn't 


tl 


lev  sou 


the  ])art  of  her  tallvini;'  that  was  nice,  l!iat  \vas 


oidy   ([ueer.       1  he    nice    ))art   was   tlie    niothei 


th 


part. 


Tl 


K  re  was  no  wav  ol'  sax-'nu  \s  hat  it  was 


like,  hut  he  wanted  to  lieai'  moi'e  and  more  of 


it. 


\'.\\  don't  a! 


\\. 


talk   I^Muhsh,""  he  said. 


'What  did  \'ou  talk  wlien  ^  ou  took  mv  mittj 


•  If 


That 


^vas 


1) 


lUiseli. 


That 


is  our  siJeecn 


pee 


ch 


slie  itp 


\m\. 


'Is  that  ^vhat  jjeople  talk  in  Ciermany 


es. 


'We  talk    Irisii.      I    wish  people  did  it  i 


m 


70 


THE  (iLORY  AND  Tlli:  DIIKAM 

Canadr.     I  don't  like  En-;lish  words,  except 
tlirce  or  I'our  nice  ones." 

"Are  tlie  Irish  words  more  nicef 
"Ves,  tlie  Irish  words  tire  all  ditYerent  col- 
ours.    There  are  some  of  them  that  jump,  and 
some  of  them  that  Hy,  and  some  of  thevi  are 
always  standini;-  in  the  sun." 

"1  liave  ouldrawn  the  frost!"  exclaimed 
Nicder's  n^.other  jo)  fully.  '•No^v  I  wiH  see  in 
what  way  your  foots  lintl  tluiusrlves." 

'M  think  my  toes  are  l)e,i;innin«^'  to  join  on 
again,"  said  Michael,  somewhat  douhlfully. 

\ieder's  mother  took  oil"  his  shoes  and  stoek- 
injrs,  and  then  she  ruhhed  his  feet— not  in  smrn- 
this  time,  hut  in  her  I)!-'  warm  hands.  When 
Miehael  re-ained  tlio  \vc  of  his  toes  he  did  not 
leave  them  in  idleness  Ion--;  he  used  them  to 
oral)  Xieder's  mother's  tin-xrs  with,  and  as 
They  were  rema.-kaMy  active  and  muscular  lit- 
tle "toes,  they  could  urah  hard.  A  wild  ^leam 
„r  inisehief  came  into  his  eyes  as  she  pretended 
to  he  dismayed,  and  criLd  -.it:  "Jr//'"  every 
time  slie  was  cannht.     At  last  she  put  his  shoes 

70 


,^*^',, 


MEUKirs  .MOTHER 


and  stockin<Ts  on  a^^ain,  after  niucli  laughlnn; 
resistance  I'roni  liini,  declaring: — "Now  those 
!)ad  toes  will  have  to  l)e  good!" 

"-My  feet  feel  nice  now,"  said  Michael. 
"Tliey  feel  like  two  nice  warm  hiscuits." 

'Well  then,  can  he  come  out  and  slide  down- 
hill with  mef"  demanded  Susan. 

'Fir^t  1  must  that  mitt  mend,  or  nis  hand 
will  become  again  freezed,"  replied  Nieder's 
nintlier.  S!ie  was  taking  up  the  mitt,  when 
they  heard  steps  on  the  \  erandah. 

"^fy  father  is  coming!"  cried  Michael. 

Xieder's  mother  ran  to  the  door.  By  sub- 
sequent observation,  Michael  discovered  that 
she  alwavs  ran  to  do  anything  that  had  to  be 
(lone  for  a  man.  and  she  never  said  anything 
when  a  man  was  in  t  .e  room.  lie  licard  his 
lather  say: — "Excuse  this  intrusion,  Init  I  have 
lost  my  little  hoy,  and  there  arc  two  sleds  at 
the  foot  of  tiie  liill  here.     Have  you  seen  himT' 

'rill  here!"  cried  Michael,  and  ran  out  into 
the  hall. 

"Come  in,  if  you  plea     ,  rncin  Ilcrr,"  said 


m 


fi' 


^. 


Tin:  (;iJ)KV  and  'vuv.  duka.m 

Xicdcr's  ni..llicr.  ^'Vhv  In-sl  hit  liis  liand 
llircu-h  thai  torn  mitt,  ^^hiL•h  I  .suppose  you 
know  not  how  to  iiuiid — " 

"J    lore  it   inysrlf.  artcr  T  went  out,"  said 
MichaeK  ea^vr  to  exonerate  liis  lather. 

"Let  me  see  yoiu"  hand,"  the  hitter  e\- 
chiime(h      He  e\amin<(l  it  anxiously. 

"Ifs  all  ri-ht  now,"  said  Miehael.  "Xic- 
dcr's  mother  eured  the  hile  with  snow.  But 
Jaek  Frost  hit  my  hand  without  my  seeing 
ir.m!"  he  added  woiidly. 

"I   eanM   till  you  how  p'ateful  I  am,"  said 
Miehaehs    lather.     "IF     '    did    you    eome    to 

hring  him  InT' 

•That  Su^an.  who  Is  as  hard  to  cold  as  one 
of  tho^e  siedl  heasls  that  run  up  trees  and 
.hiri),  eanie  with  hiiii  to  -vt  Xiedcr  lo  eome  out 
;md  l)e  free/.ed.  and  your  ehild  had  his  eye;  i.i 
trars.  vi't  he  would  not  cry.  and  1  learned  that 
his  ro<".ts  and  hands  were  in  pain  I'rom  eold,  so 

1  hringed  him  in." 

Aftir  Iha.t.  Nieder's  I'alher  talked  to  .Mi- 
(•haehs  iath.er  tor  a  lonu',  long  time,  and  Xie- 
der's  mother  sat  without  saying  anything,  as 

78 


1 


NIKDIlirs  MOTHER 


if  -.he  w:iT  a  liillo  ^irl.  Xicdcr  sliowcd  Ali- 
fliatl  !ii^  picliii'c  liook.  There  was  a  i)ic'turc 
of  a  tdiKMii,  V  ilh  u  hcaiitiliil  L-oldcti  hrcasl, 
and  Mif'uul  made  ii}?  his  mind  lliat  soimc  (hiy 
\\v  wduld  calc'h  a  toucan  and  kcc'i)  it  I'or  a  pet. 
Its  <;()hlen  hreast  wouhl  i)e  so  hri^^ht  they 
would  see  it  c  \  en  at  nis^ht,  in  the  (hirk.  Tlien 
they  went  into  thv'  dini:i;^'  room,  and  i)hiyed 
tiMins  wilh  the  ehaii's  till  Xieder's  mother  hud 
to  i-eelaiin  them  for  use  at  dinner.  It  was  a 
(k'h(  ions  (hnner:  thei'e  was  a  pud(hn^-  tliat  Mi- 
chael rcmemhered  i'or  days  and  days.  lie 
alwa\s  renieml)erKl  it  particularly  when  he 
awoke  in  the  mornini^' — a  tim*'  when  he  re- 
mcnihei\(l  riice  words  ami  nice  smells.  lie  en- 
joyed havin^;  dinner  oil'  a  dili'erent  kind  of 
dishes.  Their  own  di•^hes  were  l)iii'  J>"<1  wliite 
and  nearly  all  the  same,  hl-.e  J'.n.iilish  words. 
Theie  was  one  with  a  cover  he  called  the  cour- 
n^'c  disii,  hccnuse  it  was  like  an  Knt^lisli  word 
that  was  dillV  rent  from  the  others.  Ikit  iJtcsc 
dishes  were  lilue  and  golden  around  tlie  edge, 
a! id  there  was  a  ]u;j;  that  was  just  the  colour  of 
the  skv,  and  a  vcllow  hutter  dish  that  was  hkc 

79 


I 


THE  (;i,()KY   AM)  Tin:  DUl'.A.M 


ji  j)(.Ts()ii,  liicaii^e  it  liad  cars,  and  talked  wlun 
it  was  i)assc(l  will)  llie  cover  on.      Tlierc  were 
a  lol  of  little  l)utter  dishes  too,  with  cd.nes  that 
made  them  look  like  .star-,  and  y(  How  llower.s 
ill    the   middle.      It   suddenly   struck    Michael 
that  the  \)\;j;  hutte  •  dish  was  a  mother,  and  the 
litlle  Imtter  dishes  were  her  c'.iildren,  and  they 
were  hro'liers  and  sistirs,  and   they  were  all 
very,  ver\  hai)i)\-.     He  liked  eating-  his  hutU'r, 
hecause  the  more  he  ale  the  more  of  the  yellow 
flower  he  saw.     When  dinner  was  over,  Susan 
suddenly  announced: — "liless  us,   1   must  get 
home!     Mother  will  have  (hnner  readv  for  mc, 
and    think    I'm    lost!"    a^    it    that    appalling 
thought  had  only  that  moment  occurred  to  her. 
As  a  matter  of  Tact,  she  had  known  perfectly 
well  it  was  time  to  go  home,  when  she  smelled 
the  (hnner  cooking,  hut  it  smelled  like  a  hetter 
dinner   than    she   would   get   at   home,   i^,o   she 
.stayed,   and   .said   nothing  ahout   her  anxious 
mother  till  the  caulltlower  with  white  sauce  (a 
delicacy  in  whieh  she  was  not  allowed  to  in- 
dulge at  home)  and  the  delicious  pudding  had 
heen  safely  disposed  of.     Now,  however,  she 

80 


MKDKirS   M()TII1:R 


a- 

i 


wore  an  expression  of  sol  ;im  dismay  as  Xie- 
,;  i-'s  mother  was  i)ult'n,^'  oti  her  lliiiin's,  and 
cxlioitid  Irt  to  •■[)leasc  ImiTy  up.  iiecaiise 
niothcr  will  he  anxious!"  .iiid  ran  down  the 
^t^ps  like  an  innoeent.  dutirnl  ehih'.  intent  only 
mi  I'ditviiiL;-  her  mother's  mind  as  speedily  as 
])oisihle. 

.Micharl  I'oujid  tliin.iTS  dull  after  she  was 
•  rone.  ?<ieder  was  taktii  away  to  have  his 
artrrnoon  sletj*.  and  Mieliael  was  generally 
|iii[  to  hrd  for  an  hoiu'  in  the  afternoon,  also, 
if  he  happened  to  l)e  anywhere  within  reaeh  of 
his  fatlier.  15ul  to-day,  Xieder's  father  went 
on  and  on,  talldng  to  his  father,  till  Miehael 
!)(_,uan  to  tlii.ik  he  must  have  heen  going'  on  for 
ahoiil  a  hundied  hour.,,  or  j)erhaps  longer,  for 
h.v  km  w  there  wei'e  higger  numl)ers.  He  be- 
gan to  get  \ery  tired  of  not  talkitig,  and  he 
woiidi  ri'd  why  Xieder's  mother  did  not  talk 
either.  lie  tliouglit  there  were  oidy  two  niee 
things  ahout  growing  up — one  Mas  that  you 
might  he  a  [)atriot,  and  the  other  was  that  you 
eould  talk  all  you  wanted  to;  yet  Xieder's 
mother  was  not  availing  herself  of  the  latter 

8] 


I 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2 


1.0 

1^  llii 

! 

2.5 
22 

I.I 

2.0 

1.8 

1.25 


1.6 


_g  ./APPLIED   IIVMGE     Inc 

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r.=  -rochester.    Ne«    York  1*600        USA 

=  716)    482  -  0300  -  Phone 

=  716)   288  -  5989  -  Fa« 


THE  r.LORY  A\D  THE  DREAM 

])rivilc^c.  He  sal  down  bcsitl'  her  on  a  little 
stool,  and  pi'c.sciitly  liis  head  was  down  on  her 
knee  and  he  was  asleef). 

He  was  awakened  h\  his  father  savino'.  very 
^•ently: — "Come  alon^i>-,  small  man,  we  must  no 
lome."  He  oj)ened  his  eyes,  and  turned  his 
head  I'ound  to  look  u[).  What  was  that  eom- 
fortahle  fliinu-  it  was  resting-  on:'  It  was  a 
mothei-'s  knee! 

The  \)\>j;  warm  hand  that  had  rubbed  his  I'eet 
slii)j)ed  under  his  elieek,  so  s(jrtly,  and  raised 
up  his  t'aee,  and  a  voiee  breathed  as  if  to  it- 
sell'; — '\icli,  (lie  T<:Nji(lir.scfi(">iu'  Aufjcn'/' 

^lieluuTs  eyes  tLcrc  "wondei'-beantiful," 
and  llky  wtre  es])eeially  so  in  the  sol't  be- 
wihk'rment  ol  waking.  Any  one  who  knew 
him  eonld  read  all  the  bii^lit  imauininns  that 
went  on  behind  them,  and  shone  thronnh  their 
transpai-eni  ,<-rey.  but  to  stranoers.  and  to  some 
iVitiids  who  thou.nht  they  knew  him  very  well, 
they  were  a  mystery.  All  siieli  j)e()ple  knew 
al)ont  them  was  that  they  had  a  beauty  beyond 
the  usual  limi)id  innoeenee  of  a  child's  eyes, 
and  it  was  a  beauty  that  would  have  made  one 

82 


XTEDER'S  :M0TIIF.R 


feel  a  little  sliivery,  wvvv  it  not  I'or  the  healthy 
fleams  of  niisehief  that  eaine  into  theui  so 
often. 

Perhaps  what  Xieder's  mother  did,  when 
INIiehacl  was  all  wrapped  up  and  ready  to  o() 
home,  was  not  a  wise  thin<^'  to  do  to  a  hoy  who 
must  ^et  on  wilhotit  a  mothe)',  l)ut  she  did  it 
heeause.  iiot  heini^-  ordy  Xiedei"'s  mothtr,  hut 
a  mother  altogether,  sne  eould  not  help  it. 
Slie  had  heen  kneeling'  down  to  fix  the  shawl 
that  hid  him,  all  i)ut  his  eyes  and  nose,  \\hen 
she  suddenly  thivw  her  arms  ai'ound  him,  and 
in  some  way  reaeiied  her  mouth  in  under  the 
shawl  and  kissed  his  eheek.  Suhse(]uently 
^Miehael  often  puzzled  over  how  sh.e  had  done 
it,  hut  not  at  that  moment:  he  only  put  his 
arms  around  her  neck  and  hu_i>;ued  her  tiii'ht. 
It  was  heautiful,  heautiful,  to  have  his  arms 
ai()U!>d  a  mother's  neek,  and  when  he  let  go  he 
had  a  sliar])  feelini^'  inside  that  hui't  him  all 
throuuh,  and  he  felt  th(>  tears  eomin,^'.  It  had 
made  him  remcmher  the  time,  loni^'  a^^o,  when 
he  used  to  put  his  arms  around  a  mother's  neek 
every   ni-^ht   at   hedtime,   and   after  that,  she 

83 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


always  f^a^'c  liiiii  a  })iec'c  of  l)arley  su,u;ar  to  suck 
till  he  went  to  sleep,  lint  tlic  wild,  wonder- 
ful excitement  of  eoiiiin.i;'  to  the  new  country 
and  liel])in<^  to  Imild  the  loti,'  house,  and  tiie  joy 
lie  ^'ot  from  his  iniau'inai'y  ci-eatures,  had  han- 
ished  all  thought  of  that  time,  and  he  had  com- 
pletely forgotten  what  it  was  like  to  have  a 
mother,  till  he  i)ut  his  arms  around  Xiedcr's 
mother's  neck.  Then  '.\c  felt  that  a  mother  was 
somethiim'  vou  could n' I  do  without;  that  he 
couldn't  stand  not  having'  one  of  his  very  own. 
The  sharp  feelin,i>'  inside  hurt  as  nothing"  had 
ever  liurt  since  the  morning-  he  found  a  tousled 
red-eyed  aunt  in  liis  mother's  pink  apron.  lie 
held  on  tl^ht  to  his  father's  hand  all  the  way 
home,  and  ke[)t  his  face  tui'ned  away  in  hide 
the  tears  lie  was  mastering-  resolutely.  lie 
said  to  himself,  over  and  over:— "I'm  quite  sat- 
isfied with  father!"  and  was  determined  not 
to  let  him  thiidv  otherwise.  I3ut  when  thev 
came  in,  and  his  father  heL>-an  to  unwrap  him, 
he  exclaimed: — "^Michael!  What's  the  mat- 
ter T' 

Then  Michael  could  keep  back  the  sobs  no 

8i 


NIEDER'S  MOTHER 

loiifrer,  and  at  last,  alter  beini^  pressed  to  ex- 
plain, he  said: — "It  was  only  Xieder's  mother!" 

His  I'atlier  took  liiin  np  on  his  knee  without 
a  word,  and  in  an  instant  a  [)air  of  eager  httle 
arms  were  elose  around  his  neck,  and  altliough 
it  Hashed  through  ^lichael  that  this  wasn't  a 
mother's  neek,  he  hugged  him  tight,  heeause 
whatever  liapjiened  he  (h'd  not  want  to  hurt  his 
father's  feeh'ngs — his  dear,  preeious  fatlier, 
who  was  always  so  good  to  him — with  whom  he 
had  better  times  even  than  witli  Susan  and 
Xieder.  "Father,  I'm  quite  satisfied  with 
you!"  he  sobbed. 

Then,  someliow,  althougli  his  father  said  very 
little,  Michael  kneAv  he  understood  it  all;  l)ut 
liis  feelings  were  not  hurt,  altliough  he  was 
feeling  very  sorry  about  somethiuQ-. 


85 


CIIAPTKK   VII 


'iiir.  lAiia'  KOAn 


Tin:  nc\'  (hiy  Michael  was  <^Wvn  clear  and 
decided  iiistriieiioiis  iK't  lo  .stand  still  a  niu- 
mcnt,  and  to  conic  sti-ai-^lil  home  if  liis  hands 
and  feel  hnrl.  lie  a.nd  Snsan  ^j)e'lt  a  inoi'ii- 
in^<4'  of  i<n!'e  dehi^ht,  slidinn'  downhill,  and  for 
days.  .MieJKul  thou-^ht  (it  was  really  only  two 
oi-  three)  this  joy  ahsorhed  them  so  conii)letcly, 
they  could  scarcely  think  of  another  thin;^'. 
They  forgot  all  ahont  the  liehcrs  House,  and 
Michael  even  fori;ot  Dnkehnid  and  Shylince. 
In  fact,  they  wci'c  I)ehavinL>'  wry  like  some  sillv 
l)iL>-  ijcople  wlio  don't  know  any  hetter.  and  let- 
tin,i>-  one  rallicr  stuftid  amusement  absoi'l)  the 
whole  of  their  naturally  acti\c  and  versatile 
little  nn"nds. 

Meanwliile   Xieder  was  having-  a   dull  and 
lonely  time  of  it,  and.  he  began  to  fret.     He 

80 


Tin:  J'AIRV  ROAD 

(lid  not  fret  in  llic  decided,  turhiilent  way  in 
which  Su>ian  or  Michael  would  haxe  fretted — 
he  could  not  l)e  said  to  he  nau^i^hty — yet  lie  ccr- 
taiidy  did  make  himself  \ei'y  tiresome.  lie 
could  not  amu>,e  himsi  li'  alone.  Susan  could 
if  she  IkuI  to,  though  she  did  not  like  to  Jiave 
to,  and  ^liehael  thoroughly  enjoyed  what  he 
called  his  "hai)py  l)y  myself  times,"  when  lie 
would  he  (juiet  for  hours,  ahsorhcd  in  a  village 
made  of  cliij)s.  or  in  j)ictures  in  hooks  lie  ^"ot 
I'i'om  the  shelves,  or  simj)ly  thinkin;^'.  There 
were  so  many  wonderi'ul  thing's  to  think  ahout. 
J]ut  Xieder  had  none  of  those  resources.  Some- 
times he  rode  fm'iously  on  his  rocking  horse, 
'ashing  it  with  iiis  whip,  sometimes  lie  stamped 
ahout  hlo^\ini>'  his  tin  trum[)et  or  healing  his 
drum,  hut  when  these  amusements  palled  he 
could  in\ent  no  otheivs.  Jind  he  wandered  alx)ut 
tlic  house,  asking  when  it  would  he  dlnnei--time, 
and  in  the  afternoon,  when  it  ^vonld  be  tea- 
time  :f  Or  else  he  stood  at  the  window,  looking 
out  at  two  little  red  tigures  that  s})ed  past  the 
gate  on  sleds,  and  then  I'an  l)ack  nj)hill  again, 
or  stayed  awhile  to  tumble  each  other  about  in 

87 


m 


THE  (;l(jhv  and  tiii:  drkam 


the  snow.  iVCtcr  a  couj)k'  of  days  of  tliis,  liis 
niotlici'  could  stand  it  no  longer,  so  she 
wraj)|)ed  him  uj)  well  and  sent  him  out.  He 
(hished  down  to  the  yate,  and  looked  caf^x-rly 
ahout  for  Susan  and  Michael,  hut  instead  of 
coming'  downhill  towards  him  on  sleds,  as  he 
expected,  they  were  runnin<>-,  and  to  his  n;rcat 
disai)])ointnient  they  had  no  sleds  with  them. 

"Oh,  Xieder!"  panted  Susan,  as  she  (hishcd 
up,  and  leaned  a^u'ainst  the  [gatepost  for  sup- 
])ort.  "I  was  so  s^lad  when  I  saw  you,  hecausc, 
what  do  you  think,  there's  a  patli  up  to  the 
RcIkTs  House  this  morninijf,  and  I  can  have 
scIkjoI  u[)  thei'c,  hut  I  need  you  for  that,  he- 
cause  I  can't  have  school  made  of  just  Mi- 
chael!" 

"It's  a  fairy  path!"  cried  Michael.  "It  can't 
have  heen  anyhody  l)ut  fairies  made  it,  he- 
cause  none  of  ou"  fathers  would  want  to  get 
to  the  Rehel's  House!" 

"Stuff!"  said  Susan.  "Vou  talk  ahout 
fairies  as  if  they  wei'c  i-eal,  like  us.  instead  of 
just  story  things!" 

"But  of  course  fairies  are  real!"  protested 

88 


Tin:  FAIHV   KOAD 


Michael.  "They're  not  a  hit  hke  us,  hut 
the\-'re  r<?al  the  wav  anncls  arc,  ou\v  ol'  course 
tlicy'i'c  nothiiin'  hkc  aii,L!,'cls,  I'm  i^'oini^'  lo  sec 
a  I'aiiy  some  (hiy.  I'm  ,L!,"(miih"  to  watch  and 
watch  till  I  sec  it,  and  perhaps  111  e\en  make 
Iriends  with  it." 

"Pe()[)lc  don't  see  fairies,"  said  Xieder. 

'"Lots  of  pco[)lc  1  Used  to  know  saw  thcni. 
A  lot  of  my  annts  saw  them!"  said  Michael, 
with  awed  solemnity.  "But  it  was  snch  a 
funnv  thin''-,  afterward  thev  were  just  like  or- 
dinary  i)co})le  all  the  same.  I'm  sure  if  1  once 
saw  a  fairy,  I'd  never  ^et  over  it!" 

"I  thought  yon  Avcre  going  to  slide  down- 
hill," said  Xieder.  "I  lune  seen  you  slide 
downhill  every  day  when  mother  would  not 
let  me  go  :)ut,  and  now  yon  do  not  do  it." 

"Pcrha])s  we  will  after  awliile,"  said  Mi- 
chael. "But  we  »ii!s-t  go  up  the  fairy  road  to 
the  Kehcl's  House!" 

■^Vnd  we  nuist  have  school  when  we  get 
there,"  said  Susan. 

"I  don't  want  school.  1  want  to  slide  down- 
hill," said  X'ieder. 

89 


Tin:  (;i,()Kv  AM)  'rm:  drf.a.m 


"Here's  m-Iriv  llic  r.iiiy  i);illi  ix'^iiis,"'  said 
Mic'liacI,  as  lluv  i)assc(l  liis  <4alc  aiul  Su- 
san's. 

""How  c'oiild  fairies  plotiuli  a  patli^'  de- 
manded Sns;.n.  se(iri)lnll\-. 

"Oh.   I   (loiTl  know  Ikjw — i>ut  tliey've  done 
it.      Lodk  at  those  lieautitul  little  stars  all  over 
the  snow.     They   ha\e  soniethinn-  to  do  with 
au'ies. 

■■'I'liose  sparkling-  tliin,u's?  Oh.  they'iv  just 
natural  hi>tory."' 

"Xatm-al  histoiy  is  animals."  said  Miehael. 

"It's  animals  too  of  eourse,  hut  it's  stones, 
and  snow  Hakes,  and  -and- -all  those  thing's," 
was  Susan's  ek^ar  and  sati.->raetory  definition. 

"I'm  sure  those  stai'S  have  souk,  thin^-  to  do 
with  fairies."  Mieluul  i-epeated.  "Anvwav 
the  fairies  made  this  path,  heeause  no  one  else 
A\ould  do  it." 

"Santa  C'laus  minht  liavc,"  said  Xieder, 
slowly  and  douhtfully.  "'But  I  ihouyJit  Jie 
oidy  hrou^^'ht  thin<4s  at  Christmas." 

"Vou're  very  silly  hoys,"  said  Susan. 
"One  of  our  fathers  did  it  for  a  sui'prisc,  or 

90 


Tin;  rAiiiv  now) 


else  it  was  thai  old  C'(il(nili(»un.  lie  is  always 
(l()iii<4'  (]iuc'r-  tiling's."' 

"\'()ii  just  ask  youi-  t'atlu  r,  Susan.  Xicdrr. 
you  ask  yours,  and  1  11  ask  mine.  I'm  sui'c 
it  wasn't  tlKin." 

"Tlitn  it  was  old  C"ol((nliou)i,"'  said  Susan. 

"I'll  ask  him  too,"  said  Mifhacl. 

All  this  arunnR'nl  could  not  take  awav  from 
the  wonder  ol'  actually  walking'  nj)  a  path  to 
the  Itehel's  House  that  had  lieeii  duy"  l)y  fairies. 
M\ery  stej)  was  a  rai'clied  joy  such  as  Michael 
could  ne\cr  remcnihei'  I'eelini)'  heforc,  many 
and  vivid  as  his  jo\'s  had  heen.  It  was  almost 
as  wondei-ful  as  sccin<>'  a  I'airv  to  he  on  the  road 
they  had  made.  His  lieart  had  always  been 
so  hungry  for  wondei's:  now  it  was  tasting;  de- 
licious satisfaction.  lie  felt  as  if  something 
was  shining  inside  of  him,  he  was  so  ha})i)y. 
They  went  up  the  ste])s  and  pushed  open  the 
hig  door  with  the  hon's  head  on  it,  that  never 
slint  (juite  tight,  and  was  now  heavier  and 
stiil'er  than  ever  before,  having  been  several 
days  untouched.  They  went  into  the  gieat 
bare  room  with  the  sim  shining  on  tlie  floor. 

91 


THE  r.LORV  AM)  Tin:  dri.am 


Susan  iiiiiiic  .Mi(Iia(I  and  Xicdir  sil  down  side 
ity  side  t»n  llic  wiiidnw  sill,  and  shi  iiintiiittd 
an  did  s()a[)  box  in  I'l'onl  of  tluin. 

■'X(i\v  ;,flif)(il  will  !ri;::i,"  slic  said.  '"(Jci^^'- 
j'apliy  liisl.  Ii'cland  and  (Jciniany  arc  (»n 
one  .side  ul'  the  sea,  and  Canada  is  on  the  other 
side.  Then  there's  the  Xorth  l*()le.  where  it's 
always  as  eold  as  it  is  here  just  now,  and  the 
i'i\er  we  li\  e  hcside." 

''Tiiere's  a  country  called  the  Americans  on 
the  otlier  side  of  the  i'i\e!\"  said  Michael. 

"Tiiere's  a  country  called  Spain  i)esides," 
said  Xieder. 

"That's  a  nice  name."  said  Michael.  "It's 
like  the  \ng  i^olden  sounds  all  mixed  uj)  with 
honey." 

"^Vritlimetic  next,"  continued  Susan  with 
di^'nity.  "Two  ti\  es  make  ten,  and  tweh  e  are 
a  do/en." 

".Vnd  six  are  half  a  dozen,  and  ten  tens  are 
a  hundred,  and  there  are  millions  and  hillicjiis 
and  trillions  besides,"  siii)j)]emented  Michael. 

"You  must  always  hold  up  your  liand  he- 
fore  vou  sav  anvthiuLi'.     Grammar  next.     It 

92 


Tin:  iWFUv  KuAiJ 


Isn't  ffrntiimar  to  (all;  alioul  scalawaus,  {IuhiljIi 
{'allicT  (Iocs  it  soiiK'tinics.  Xatiiial  liislory 
ncNt.      I  aOiis  and  liu(  is  don't  lixtlierc — " 

"Oil.  Snsaii — "  .Michael  l)(;4an. 

"J  "in  tcacliir/'  slir  (miti  itid, 

"Tciicliti-,"  lie  said,  uilh  a  little  .^I.u'.nle  at 
that  tllle  in  tiie  inid.sl  of  his  eonstcrnation,  "are 
yon  sure'" 

"Or  eoni-se  I'm  snre.  J  uonldn't  teaeh  yon 
anything'  I'm  not  sni'e  ol'.'' 

'I   wanted  to  lind  a  lion  in  the  woods  and 


kill  him!" 


"Well,  bears  live  here.  Pei'liaps  yon'il  find 
a  heai'.  Minks  live  here  too,  and  an  animal 
with  a  smell  it  Isn't  grammar  to  talk  abont. 
l''airies  don't  li\e  hei'c — " 

"They  do!"  protested  ]Micliacl  liotly. 

"If  yon  contradict  the  teacher,  mother  says 
yon  have  to  be  i)i'.nished.  Go  and  stay  in  the 
corner  over  there." 

"It's  too  cold." 

"Then  say  you're  sorry." 

"I'm  sorry,  but  they  do  live  here,  and  they 
made  a  road  so  you  could  have  school  up  here." 

93 


•Si- 


Si 

m 


f 


Tin:  (JLoiiv  AM)  THE  duka:»i 


"Is  school  nearly  done'"  asked  Xieder. 

"\\\'ll,  I  helieve  that's  all."  sai(1  Susan  re- 
gretfully. "1  euTt  renieiiiher  anything  else 
mother  told  me  was  tanglit  in  school." 

"Then  can  we  slide  downhill^"'  demanded 
Xieder. 

jMichael  was  I'eluctant  to  leave  the  Kehel's 
House  so  soon,  and  on  this  pai'ticulai'  morning 
too.  when  it  was  in\este(l  ^\it]l  a  douhle  glam- 
our; hut  for  a  little  mortal  with  such  \cry  in- 
tense desires  as  he  had,  he  was  pretty  good- 
natured  a})out  giviiig  'em  up  when  anyhody 
else  wanted  something  else  very  hadly,  so  they 
all  went  out,  and  h.ad  the  wildest  morning  of 
sliding  downhill  they  had  had  yet;  for  there 
were  three  of  them  instead  of  two,  whicli  ii'- 
crcased  the  noise  and  fim.  and  they  had  the 
whole  height  of  llie  hillside  to  slide  down,  aiul 
they  never  knew  where  they  were  going  to  land 
next,  or  with  just  wliat  force  they  were  going 
to  he  precipitated  into  tlie  deep  snowdrift  be- 
side the  ri\er.  When  tlie  hig  dinner  gong 
sounded  (this  was  an  iiistitution  Michael's 
father  had  blurted,  to  save  endless  trouble  about 

94 


THE  FAIRY  ROAD 


niipnnctuality  at  mealtimes)  and  tliere  was  a 
H'ciicral  scraiiil)le  out  of  that  (li'it't  and  liome- 
^vards,  .Michael  i-eminded  the  other  two  to  re- 
ineniher  to  ask  theii-  lathers  if  they  had 
ploughed  the  path.  lie  asked  ///.v  father  first 
thing  when  he  hurst  in  the  door,  all  covered 
witii  snow,  his  cheeks  crimson  and  his  eyes  shin- 
ing. "'J'here's  a  I'airy  road  up  to  the  Rehel's 
House  this  morning!"  lie  ci'ied.  "I  hnoxc  it 
was  fairies  made  it,  hut  just  hecause  Susan  and 
Xieder  thought  it  wasn't  I  told  them  to  he  siu"e 
to  ask  their  fathers  if  they  ploughed  it,  and 
I'd  ask  you." 

"I  certainly  didn't,"  his  father  replied,  look- 
ing astonished. 

"Then  it  icas  fairies!"  cried  Michael,  danc- 
ing wildly  ahout.  ''Tm  sure  it  icasn't  Susan's 
father,  and  I'm  quite  sure  it  wasn't  Xieder's," 
as  he  rememhcred  the  fat  figure  tilted  hack  in 
a  chair  in  front  of  the  stove,  talking  and  talk- 
ing and  talking. 

He  ate  his  dinner  verv  silently  that  dav. 

%.  ^  k 

He  was  full  of  delightful  excitement,  not  only 
al)out  the  fairy  road   (although  that  was  ex- 

95 


Tin:  GLORY  AM)  THE  DllKAM 


citinijf  enough,  for  now  liis  one  little  flickering 
(loul)t  was  extinguished;  he  hud  thought  it 
in'ujltt  be  his  father)  .)ut  al)()ut  the  hig,  hold, 
adxenturous  thing  he  must  do  riglit  after  din- 
ner, in  ortler  to  eonvinee  Susan.  lie  must  go 
and  ask  old  Col([uhoun.  Old  Cohjuhoun's 
premises  were  as  yet  undiscoxered  eounti'v; 
thc'v  had  all  the  fascination  ol'  the  unkfiown. 
Not  that  he  expected  them  to  he  extraordinary 
in  any  way.  He  could  not,  very  \\ell.  as  for 
him  there  was  no  ordiua.ry.  re!'haj)s  hig 
j)eople,  if  they  hark  back  far  enough,  can 
undirstaud  the  fascination  woodpiles,  rubbish 
lieaps,  barns  and  woocKIieds  had  for  Michael. 
The  chii'S  and  blocks  he  found  in  such  ])laces 
])ositi\e!y  insisted  on  being  [)eo[)le.  and  houses 
and  villages;  scaicely  less  delightful  were  the 
numlterless,  curictus,  inexplicable,  suggestive 
objecis  for  whieli  he  could  find  no  especial  nse. 
Sometimes  tliev  suggested,  wordlesslv  but  with 
the  utmost  poignancy,  grim  tragedies — some- 
times they  brought  the  brightest,  most  blissful 
thoughts.  To  Michael,  at  six  vears  old.  no 
object  was  without  signiticance.     What  a  fer- 

90 


Tin:  FAIRY  ROAD 


li!c  field  he  luui  already  round  his  father's  rub- 
hisli  heaj)!  TheiK'c  liatl  been  Iransjjorled  a 
iiiiniher  of  tin  cans,  old  IxAtoiuless  rusty 
(iip[)ers,  supera'Miuated  sauce[)ans,  and  leaky 
coll'ee  i)()ts,  to  a  certain  room  in  the  Kchers 
House,  liereaftei-  known  as  the  aviary,  in- 
habited by  a  choice  collection  of  birds  of  I'ara- 
dise,  cockatoos.  ])aro(juets,  and  owls.  Oidy  the 
coveted  toucan  uith  its  wonderful  i^olden  breast 
was  mis'  '-Mr-,  it  had  not  vet  found  a  suilicientlv 
wortiiy  re[)resentative.  Susan's  rubbish  heap 
was  of  a  different,  but  e(|!ially  su^Li;n-estive 
character.  The  i)ossibililies  of  Xieder's  back 
yard  had  also  been  partially  discovered;  but 
nothing  whatever  ^^as  known  about  old  Col- 
(juhoun's  i)reniises.  Old  C'okiuhoun  himself 
was  ol'  sccondiu'y  iinportajice.  His  usefulness 
would  be  terminated  as  soon  as  he  denied  hav- 
ini,^  j)loughe(l  the  path. 

He  had  a  bi^\  heavy  ,L>'atc — so  licavy  that  Mi- 
chael had  a  long-  slruL»'i>-le  to  p;et  it  o])en :  lie 
thought  se\fral  times  that  he  would  Juirc  to 
s^ive  U])  tryinu".  but  !ie  was  deternu"ned  he  would 
not  if  he  could  jjossildy  liclp  it;  and  at  last, 

97 


:|l 


nl 


■m 
I 

41 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

al'tcr  many  ^i^lnaiitic  eH'orts,  lie  <?ot  it  just 
cii()ii<4h  open  to  wrinkle  tlirou^h.  and  then  lie 
danced  and  yelled  in  triiini])li:int  joy.  Sud- 
denly tliere  was  a  noise  ol'  l)arkin^tjf  tliat  drowned 
out  every  other  sound,  and  a  lot  of  <rreat  big 
do<,''s  fiew  at  hini  Troni  all  sides,  their  necks  bris- 
tling in  a  way  he  thought  was  grand;  they  were 
almost  as  good  as  lions!  There  must  be  a  hun- 
dred of  them,  he  thought,  but  lie  did  not  know 
what  it  was  to  feel  friglitened,  so  he  went 
straight  on  up  the  ])ath  to  old  Colqulioun's 
door.  Old  Cohiuhoun  was  there  by  the  time  lie 
readied  it,  calling  the  dogs,  who  surrounded 
him.  crouching  before  him,  and  curling  them- 
selves around  his  feet. 

"Good  day,  old  C'ol(|uhoun.""  said  Michael. 
"Did  you  plough  that  path  up  to  the  Uebel's 
House.'"' 

He  noticed  that  old  Col(juhoun  had  a  long 
beard,  and  wore  an  api'(^n — two  fumiv  thincs, 
which  he  had  never  seen  before.  He  had 
thouglit  it  was  oidy  ninthei-s  wlio  wore  aprons, 
and  he  was  not  accustomed  to  men  with  beards. 

He  did  not  re[)ly  to  ^Michael's  question  im- 

93 


Tin:  FAIRY  ROAD 


nicdiutcly;   tlicn  lie   cjaculatod,   willi   a   most 
a^toniuliii^'  \(>liiiiie  of  M)ice: — '"Lo.sli  heliears!" 
"Did  yon  plough  itf  Micliacl  rej)eated. 
''Do  ye  think  1  lia'c  naelliiii<^'  else  to  do,  than 

tlis  for  weans  r'  oki 
"Is   that   a'   ve   ca:n' 


ash  inase 


r 


lOn^lun    pa 


oe   i)urne( 


1 


C'ol(|nh()nn  demanded, 
here  to  ask  mef  ]Ma  cakes  will 
hlaek,"  and  he  tnrned  ronnd  and  hnrried  hack 
into  the  honse.  ^Michael  followed  him.  lie 
had  not  understood  this,  and  wondered  what 
new  lan<2;ua^e  it  was  that  had  a  little  En(>lish 
in  it  and  yet  wasn't  Kn,ylish.  From  the  tone, 
tliouiih,  he  had  no  douht  it  was  a  hi<i'hly  in- 
diii'uant  denial,  and  that  rejoiced  his  heart. 
He  had  already  decided  that  he  liked  old  Col- 
(juhoun.  Although  his  voice  was  so  hi^  and 
an^ry,  it  was  soft,  and  had  a  nice  sound  in  it, 
]\('l)le's  voices  were  generally  wha*  decided 
Michael  as  to  whether  he  liked  them  or  not. 

'■[  really  knew  you  didn't. — "  he  hepfan  as  he 
followed  old  Cohiuhoun  throuo'li  the  house. 

"Then  why  did  ye  come  fa->hin'  me  ahoot 
it?"  demanded  dd  Cokiuhoun,  turning  round 
on  him. 

09 


Tin:  (;i.()!{v  and  'I"iii:  dri.am 

''Susan  and  Xiclcr  uoiildii't  believe  it  M'as 
fairies,  hut  I  knew  lliei-e  was  iidIkhIv  else  \\()uKl 
have  (lone  it,  so  I  told  ll-eni  to  ask  tlieir  fathers, 
and  I'd  ask  mine,  and  then  they  said  it  was 
yon,  so  1  said  I'd  ask  yon  too.  Xoxc  they'll 
know  it  eouhhi't  ha\e  heen  any  one  hnt 
aines! 

Old  Cokinhonn  looked  hard  at  Miehael  for 
a  l\\v  nn'niites,  withont  sayi?!.^-  anytliiiin'  more. 
3Jie]iael  thou.uh.t  he  meant  sonieihino'  hv  look- 
ing- at  him  th;it  way.  hnt  he  did  not  know  or 
care  what  it  was.  he  was  so  triumphant  and 
luqipy  ahont  tlie  ])ath. 

"Wdia  hnt  fairies  would  do  it.'"  demanded 
old  C'ohinhonn  at  last,  in  a  short,  impatient 
tone,  as  if  any  other  theory  was  too  silly  to  he 
considered  I'oi"  a  moment. 

He  hurried  on  to  the  kilehen,  which  was  full 
of  an  entraneino'  smell  of  cakes.  On  the  tahlc 
was  a  }):le  of  them,  the  perfcet  .liolden  brown 
tliiit  Michael  lowd.  and  a  doo-  m;is  .standinn' 
with  his  forepaws  on  the  table,  his  nose  rai)idly 
approaehino'  (lie  temptin<4'  I'^ap.  Old  Cohju- 
houn  ejaculated :— "Colin !"  in  a  tone  that  made 

100 


THE  FAIRY   HOAD 


Michael  jiimi),  and  hroni^Iit  the  (lo<^-  down  to 
llic  llooi-  at  liis  I'cct,  cidtichin^i;-  and  (juiwi'ini^-. 
■■\'e  would  st'di,  'Aould  ye!'  WlxI,  ye  would 
lia'e  iiad  your  sha. .  if  ye  had  heen  honest.  Noo 
veil  see  Jessie  <;et  twa  cakes,  i)it  hv  hit.  and 


\e 


11 


look  on. 


M 


icliae 


tl 


OUi 


fht  il' 


lis 


itl 


lUier 


spoke  to  him  in  such  a  tone  he  would  he  so 
ashamed  he  would  never  net  over  it  all  his  lii'e. 
Old  Cohiuhoun  wlijiped  another  pan  of 
cakes  out  of  the  oven,  then  picked  \\\^  two  of 
the  fluinest  and  most  golden  ones  in  the  first 
heap,  and  crossed  the  room  to  a  do!^"  who  was 
lyin<^'  in  a  corner  wit!i  ])U[)pies  around  her. 
Just  ;it  the  same  moment.  .Michael  caui^iit  .^i^ht 
of  tlie   ])up[)ies;  he  hounded  across  the  r 


oom 


w 


ith  a  cry  of  joy,  and  /pist  hud  his  hand  on  the 
softest  and  w)'i;4;i^liest  one,  that  sent  shivers  of 
deli_i>ht  all  throu<^h  him,  when  he  heard  a  sava.^-e 
growl,  and  next  tiling-  he  knew  he  had  heen 
jerked  hv  his  collar  into  tlie  middle  ol'  the  iloor, 
and  old  C'ohiuhoun  was  standing"  o^•er  hi 
paiitiiif^-  with  excitement. 


m 


II 


I  e  \e  nae  sense 


le  (lenuuK 


led. 


ilaurna  touch  a  pu])py  o'  Jessie's.     Mon,  she 

101 


1^^^ 


THE  (ILORV   AN!)  'I  IIi:  DRKAM 

nearly  I'il  yc!  I  wouldiia  For  onytliiji;;-  lia'e 
ma  aiild  Jessie  (^v[  into  hvniJilc.  She's  a  ^vy 
I'anny  auld  lassie."  he  said,  ciijssin^^'  Ihe  room 
aoain  and  hiyiiif^-  his  liand  with  resjjeclful 
tenderness  on  the  dou"s  liead,  "1)111  hei-  temper's 
no  sweet.  Xoo,  C'ohnI"  he  achhd  shari)ly, 
tuinino-  around.  C'ohn  came  ei-ouehin^'  up  to 
him,  his  eves  fixed  on  the  eakes,  sniihno-  and 
Ma^u;u"inf^-  his  tail.  Jessie  sat  up,  showino-  a 
lovely  white  shirt  front  that  distracted  Mi- 
chael's attention  IVom  the  puppies  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  with  solemn  dignity  eaunjit  j)ite  after 
hite  of  cake,  smacking  her  lips  loudly  over  each 
one,  as  if  she  understood  that  she  was  assistin.uf 
in  Colin's  ])unishn)ent.  Michael  meanwhile 
was  watchinn-  the  puj)])i's  as  they  rolled  helj)- 
lessly  ahout.  and  his  whole  heinir- was  tilled  with 
a  consuming-  lon^-inn-  to  have  one  of  those  yel- 
low, fluffy  1)!ts  of  loveliness  in  his  own  hands, 
hut  he  had  no  ho])e  of  its  hein.u'  .H'ralilied — and 
to  such  a  small.  \i\i(l  person  as  ^Micliael.  an 
unpcratified  lon^yini^-  was  acute  a,L':o?iy.  IJut 
when  Col(|ulioun  had  tim'shed  the  deliherate  ad- 
ministration of  cake  to  Jessie,  he  went  up  to 

102 


(1 


Tin:  TAIUV   ROAD 

Ik  r  in  that  tcndci'ly  resi)cc'triil  iiumncr  Michael 
had  noticed  Ijcforc. 

"Will  yc  let  me  lia'c  a  lMi])py  for  a  wee?" 
he  asked.     '■\'e  ken  ye  can  trust  your  master." 

Jessie  let  him  pick  up  a  puppy,  and  he  .slowly 

and  solemnly  dei)osited   it   in  Michael's  arms. 

"Oh  I"'  cried  Michael.     He  sjjcnl  a  lew  minutes 

i;'ter  rai)ture.  while  it  wri^u'led  and  kicked 
and  no]»i)ed  its  dear  little  paws  ahout.  and 
j.'oked  aj'ound  with  its  funny  little  nose.  But 
after  old  Cohiuhoun  took  it  hack  Michael  was 
conscious  of  another  imj)erative  desire.  He 
iini.sf  some  day  have  a  pujjpy  of  his  very  own. 

"Weel,  I'm  ^lad  ye  cam',"  remarked  old 
Cokiuhoun.  "for  an  extra  mouth  to  eat  up  the 
cakes  is  no  sic'  a  had  thin^i^'.  1  dinna  like  them 
stale.  Here,  tak'  those  and  eat  them  on  the 
way  hanie." 

He  oave  Michael  three  cakes,  and  for  some 
time  this  hliss  put  even  pu])pies  out  of  his  head. 
He  consumed  one  slowly  as  he  walked  alon*? 
the  path  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  for  he  liked  to 
make  his  pleasures  last,  and  hcsides,  it  was  as 
nice  to  look  at  as  it  was  to  eat,  and  he  would 

103 


Tin:  cLoiiv  AM)  'I'm;  dht-am 


]h'  son-y  lo  sec  till'  In^l  of  that  I)i:iiitit'iil  colour. 
To  l<c  .sure,  llici'c  Were  two  more — hut  it  sud- 
denly occurred  to  hiui  th.it  Susnn  and  Xitder 
iiii^iit  like  them,  and  Ir.;-  a  lit  lie  while  a  s|iar|) 
sti-nn-o-le  went  on  in  his  nn'nd.  Then  he  fcso- 
lutely  f  lu'Ust  the  t\vo  ea';e^  deep  into  his  |;oeket, 
and  ran  aloni''  the  lilile  path  to  the  l)ank  of 
snow  the  sleds  ran  into.  'I'hey  wt  re  comin,^- 
downhill  now,  and  ju-e.-.(  nlly  Su^an  and  Xieder 
weie  jirecipitated  into  the  han!;.  W'hm  they 
sci-anihled  out,  and  saw  Michael,  they  asked 
him  where  he  had  ht tii. 

"I'se  heen  to  old  C()l(Mihonn"s.  lie  <>a\c 
nie  some  cakes,  and  here's  oni'  i'oi-  each  ol'  nou," 
Michael  rej)lied,  as  he  hastily  held  out  tiie  cakes, 
determined  to  i>et  this  ai'duous  duty  done  at 
once.  When  Susan  and  Xieder  had  Li'ot 
started  munchin;;  the  cakes  they  did  not  seem 
disposed  to  ask  any  more  (lueslions.  hut  Mi- 
chael continued: — "He  didn'l  plon<4h  the  Fairv 
Road!" 

'"^lichael!"  exclaimed  Susan,  in  the  utmost 
astonishment.  'Do  yon  know,  my  father 
didn't,  and  neithti-  did  \ieder's!" 

104 


1- 
t 


Tin:  lAIKY   U().\I) 

'"I  hiK  w  tlicy  didn't.  1  llidii^Iu  iiiiiic  mi^lit 
have,  liiil  ill  didii'i."' 

"Tlicii  it  iiiii^t  have  l)tcii  fairies.  \\!rii  it 
wasn't  j)((ipk."  Xicdcr  had  lo  adimt  reluc- 
tantly. h(t\\((  n  nioufhfids  of  caUe. 

■()!'  c'oui'^c.  Old  C'(il'|ulii)iiii  said  it  was 
lairics. 

"I  don't  srf  how  I'aii'irs  could  plough  a  path," 
said  Susan. 

"IJiit  Hrv  did."  said  .Mirhacl. 

"\\'hat  is  old  C'(ili|uh()un  iikef'  incjuircd  Su- 
san. 

"Will,"  said  Miii.acl,  rcllcitixely.  "he's  \  ei'y 
hi-''  a  hcai'." 

"Like  the  /^'real  lii_n-  hea!''"  asked  Susan  ea- 
M'crly. 

"\(i — he's  not  hiy-  enough  Inr  the  ^'I'lat  hio- 
hear,  and  tie's  too  hi<4'  i'or  the  little  hear.  He's 
more  like  the  niiddle-si/ed  hear." 

"L  alher  says  he's  very  (jueer,"  said  Susan. 

"Yes,"  rc))lied  .Miehael.  "He's  <|ueer.  He 
wears  an  ai)i-on.  IJut  he's  nice.  I'm  uoinn'  to 
sec  him  again." 


I 


105 


f 


CIIAPTKU  VUI 


(.  IIUISTMAS 


AnoT'T  tliis  time  MicliacTs  latlier  l)c<4aii  to  tell 
liini  a  (lillVreiit  sort  of  story  as  tliey  sat  to- 
ii'etlRT  ill  the  ^jow  of  the  lireliuht  before  the 
time  eaii.e  to  ^o  to  hed.  It  uas  not  about  fair- 
ies: it  was  a!)oiil  sometliinu'  miieli  more  wonder- 
ful, and  somehow  Michael  never  eould  ^et  (juite 
to  the  delieious  heart  of  the  wonder.  ITc 
thought  al)out  it  a  ^I'eat  deal  after  he  went  to 
bed  at  ni^ht,  and  any  time  he  hai)[)ened  to  be 
alone  and  ([uiet  dining'  the  day.  He  tried  to 
gc  t  to  the  heart  of  it,  as  he  always  tried  to  ^i'et  to 
the  heart  of  any  joy  or  {u'in,  and  extract  from 
it  the  uttermost  sensation — impelled  by  a  sort 
of  instinct  to  find  out  exactly  how  good  or  how 
l)ad  a  tiling  was:  but  he  eould  not  with  this. 
Every  time  he  thouu'lit  of  the  ann-ds  coming 
to  the  shepherds,  and  the  star  guiding  the  wise 
men  to  the  stable  where  the  Child  was.  he  felt 
hushed  all  over  by  a  vast,  sweet  wonder.     He 

lOG 


(  IIUISTMAS 


'vaiitcd  Iiis  I'allR'r  to  Icll  liiii;  more  and  more 
ahoiil   llic  mysUrioiis  Child,   who   \\a^  just   a 


ittl 


hov 


hkc  1 


iim  or 


Xicd 


LI",  aiK 


1  vet 


so  (liller 


ll'c 


(lit.  His  lather  was  alwavs  vei'\"  wiUiim'  to 
tell  Iiiin;  hut  one  day  lie  hcnaii  to  tellahoiit  the 
wicked  Ilei'od,  and  his  ell'orts  to  find  and  kill 
Jisiis,  and  (he  lliL>hl  into  K,i4y|)t.  Mieliael  sud- 
denly hurst  out  sohhinu",  and  l)e,i^;^ed  his  lather 
not  to  tell  him  any  more.  lie  felt  he  eould  not 
hear  it,  it'  Ilerod  overtook  and  killed  Jesus. 
lie  had  a  [lieture  in  his  mind  of  .lesus  wander- 
in^'  away  alone,  anion^;  Howers  and  hushes,  un- 
hurried and  iinafraid,  in  the  aimless  iniioeent 
way  that  he  or  Xieder  wcuild  wander  in  the 
woods:  utterly  hcl[)less  as  they  woidd  he.  and 
this  cruel  pursuer,  who  eould  so  easily  lind 
Him— oh,  he  could  not  hear  it!  Not  I'oi-  some 
lime  afterwards  did  Michael's  Jatlur  liiul  out 
\Jiy  he  heii'^ed  so  passionately  not  to  he  told 
any  nuH'e.  He  was  puzzled,  and  stopjjcd  tell- 
ing those  stories  for  awhile,  and  dwelt  on  the 
other  side  of  Christmas.  He  talked  of  Santa 
Claus,  and  asked  Michael  what  he  would  like 
him   to    bring.     Miciiael    replied,   looking   up 

107 


THE  GLOKV  AND  THE  DREAM 

with  ca^cr  .sliinino;  eyes: — "Oh.  I'd  lilvf  him  to 
bring  me  a  httle  l)ii[)i>y!" 

"A  hltle  pupl'V,"  his  father  rephed  thought- 
fully.    "What  sort  of  puppy  f" 

"A  yellow  Ihiiry  one  like  old  Cohiuhoun's!" 
cried  Michael. 

:\Iiehaers  father  saw  some  diiriculties  in 
Santa  Clans'  n.ad  that  littf.  peoi)le  cannot 
understand,  hut  the  look  in  his  l)oy's  eyes  went 
far  toward  deciding  him  that  they  must  he 
overcome ;  however,  his  reply  was  cautious.  "I 
don't  think  I  ever  heard  of  Santa  «.  laus  l)ring- 
ing  a  puppy,"  he  said.  "He  may,  of  course, 
])ut  it  would  he  very  hard  to  carry  one  all  that 
way  and  keep  it  warm." 

"lie  coukl  puL  it  under  his  coat,"  said  Mi- 
chael. 

"So  he  (ould.  Well  he  may  ihid  he  can 
bring  it,  hut  don't  he  too  sure." 

"I  want  one  so  much!  I  don"!  want  any- 
thing hut  a  pui)py.  Oh,  yes,  1  want  a  toucan, 
but  that  is  something  I  can  find  for  myself." 

"Couldn't  you  find  a  puppy  in  the  same 
way?"  infiuired  his  father,  smihng. 

108 


CHRISTMAS 


"Xo.  I  want  a  real  puppy,"  was  Micliaers 
(kckled  answer. 

"Very  likely  Santa  Clans  can  piek  np  some 
kind  of  a  l)nppy,  but  he  may  not  be  al)le  to 
find  one  like  old  Cokiulioun's,"  replied  his 
lather. 

Snsan  and  Nieder  be^an  to  talk  abont 
Christmas  and  Santa  Clans  too.  Xieder 
wanted  a  mouth  or<>'an,  and  "much  candy." 
Xieder  <4enerally  wanted  somethin*^  to  make 
a  noise  with,  or  somethinf?  to  cat.  Susan's 
wish  surprised  Michael.  "I  want  Santa  Claus 
to  bring  me  a  mister  doll — a  knittity  one,"  she 


said 


"1  thought  dolls  were  all  shes!"  exclaimed 
Michael. 

"Xo,  mother  showed  me  a  china  doll  she  had 
'A  hen  she  was  a  little  girl,  that  was  a  he.  She 
called  him  Shcppy.  But  he  wore  skirls  just 
like  a  she,"  Susan  added  contemptuously.  "I 
want  a  knittity  one  with  no  clothes  on  at  all, 
tliat  wc  can  take  u})  to  the  Kebers  IIoujlC.  We 
need  an  extra  he  to  do  tilings." 

"1  don't  b>- J  whv  we  need  a  knittiiv  doll.     I 

109 


i  *t=l 


THE  GLORY  AND  Till:  DREAM 


can  ii-ct  all  the  lies  I  want  out  of  tlie  woods," 
replied  Michael. 

'•i'lii  M)  tired  of  tliat  kind!  T  never  know- 
where  they  are.  1  want  a  knittity  doll,  so  I 
can  see  just  what  he  is  doin<4'." 

'•He  would  l)e  line,"  a.ureed  Xieder  heartily. 

"1  don't  see  the  use  of  him.  hut  if  you  want 
him  as  hadly  as  I  want  my  pupjiy,  1  hope  yuTll 
net  him,"  replied  Mieluiek 

The  wondei-ful  evening  came  at  last,  and 
:Miehael  looked  doiihtfuUy  at  liis  little  socks  as 
he  hunu'  them  ui).  "I  don't  see  how  Santa 
Clans  could  get  a  pupi>y  into  them,"  he  said 

tragically. 

"Iledl  tie  tliem  to  tlie  puppy's  tail,  and  hang 
him  up  that  way,"  said  his  father.  "That  is  — 
if  lie  ])rings  him,  Michael." 

The  reluctant  smile  that  this  joke  coaxed 
out  vanished  at  that  last  awful  hint.  "Oh— I 
Jiopc  hedl  hringhim,"  said  >Iichael. 

"We'll  get  things  rdl  ready,  anyway.  Sup- 
jiose  I  fix  a  hasket  !>et\vetu  those  two  socks. 
Then  the  puppy  v.ill  he  (piite  comfortahle." 

After  Michael  was  tucked  into  hed,  his  father 

110 


CHRISTMAS 


rciii;irl<c(l : — "I  tliiiik  I'll  <^o  out  for  a  wall<. 
rcrha[>s  I'll  catch  a  o|n)ii)sc  of  Santa  Clans, 
and  I'll  look  to  sec  if  his  coat  is  hnlgv.  But 
vou  must  i)c  aslcci)  ulicn  1  conic  hack,  or  if 
you're  not.  you  mustn't  open  your  eyes  or  ask 
mc  any  questions." 

]Micliael  fell  asleep  long  hefore  his  father 
came  hack,  excited  though  he  was.  lie  fell 
asleep  ^^■ondering  if  he  would  awaken  to  the 
tragedy  of  an  emi^ty  hasket,  or  if  Santa  Clans 
were  even  now  on  the  way,  with  a  hulgy  spot 
in  his  coat. 

It  was  dawn  when  he  awoke.  The  hasket 
was  hanging  heside  the  lirejjlace.  suspended  hy 
the  two  little  socks.  He  just  coukln't  see  over 
the  edge.  He  sat  u))-.  he  could  just  catch  a 
,i>limi)se  of  something  lluify — and  yellow — ordy 
the  faintest  glimpse,  hut  enough  to  fill  his  whole 
small  heing  with  tremors  of  delight.  Tie  stood 
up.  There,  curled  into  a  soft  hall  in  the  hasket, 
was  a  deal-  little  yellow  thing,  just  exactly  like 
the  one  that  had  wriggled  in  liis  arms  for  those 
few  memorahle  moments  in  Cokpihoun's 
kitchen.     It  was  there.     There  could  he  no 

111 


-It 


1,^'  i 


m 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


<l()ii1)t  al)()ut  it.     A  real  puppy,  to  hold  and 
fondle  just  as  much  as  ever  he  liked! 

That  morning  was  i'ull  of  the  most  vivid, 
satisfying  hliss.  Michael  could  think  of  noth- 
ing hut  his  pupi)y.  How  he  hugged  and 
fondled  him.  and  hurrowed  his  cheek  into  his 
hair,  and  rolled  him  o\er  and  over  and  made 
him  nourish  his  dear  httle  paws,  and  with  what 
delight  he  fed  him!  How  indignant  he  was 
when  his  father  suggeste  '  ^luichin,  which 
means  Piggy,  as  a  suitahle  ;  .. '!  With  what 
gra\  e,  exas])erating  persistence  h.'s  father  stuck 
to  this  outrageous  idea,  and  refused  to  consider 
the  possihility  of  calling  the  puppy  anything 
else!  Only  Michael  t'elt  sui-e,  down  in  the  bot- 
tom of  his  heart,  that  when  lie  had  found  a  nice 
enough  name — if  he  ever  could  lind  one  nice 
enough — his  father  would  not  insist  on  3///- 
ivhiii. 

Tlierc  was  a  sudden  momentary  dieck  to  this 
hliss  at  noon,  when  his  father  said: — "Now, 
Michael,  we  must  get  dressed  and  go  over  to 
Nieder's.  His  father  and  mother  have  asked 
us  to  Christmas  dinner." 

112 


CHRISTMAS 


"Oil,  can't  we  stay  at  liomcf'  bc^'gcd  Mi- 
chael. 

■"Why?     You  know  you  always  enjoy  going 

there." 

"1  don't  want  to  leave  tlie  puppy  1" 

'•He'll  be  all  right.  We  can  I'eed  him  last 
thing,  and  when  they  hear  him  gobbling  they 
will  Unow  we  are  ready  to  start.  He  won't 
need  anything  more  till  wc  get  back." 

"I  cdu'l  leave  my  puppy  the  very  first  day!" 
cried  Miehael,  picking  him  up  and  cuddling 
him  close. 

"I  don't  believe  they  would  mind  if  we  bring 
him  along,"  his  father  said,  after  a  moment's 
deliberation. 

Then  all  .Michaers  joy  surged  back  with  re- 
doubled force.  He  felt  so  proud,  taking  his 
pui)[)y  out  to  dinner.  It  was  a  kingl>  thing 
to  be  ooing!  Any  especially  didightful  thing, 
that  made  bim  feel  big  and  gTand,  was  kingly, 
in  Miebael's  vocabulary. 

Nieder's  mother  admired  the  puppy  entliu- 
siastically,  and  Nieder's  father  rolled  bim  over 
on  his  back  once  or  twice  and  called  him  a 

113 


.a 


I  \ 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DRKAINI 


dear  little  toiul,  and  Xicder  found  liliii  such  an 
cxc'clK'ut  playthiii;^-  that  lie  acaially  I'or^-ot  to 
exhibit  his  luoi'.lh  orLi'an  to  Michael,  till  he  was 
reminded.  It  would  ha\'e  been  well  if  he  had 
not  l)eeu  reminded,  for  Michael  thou^u^ht  it  was 
horrid,  and  said  so  with  the  candour  char- 
acteristic of  «4entlemen  of  his  tender  years. 
This  made  Xicder  ani^ry,  ami  they  had  a 
violent  (juari'cl,  and  ^ve!•c  not  on  s])caking 
tei'uis  I'or  half  an  hour:  hut  the  Christmas  din- 
ner pn^ved  a  peacemaker.  Michael  thought 
Xieder's  father  and  the  fat  turkey  looked  very 
nruch  alike,  and  for  the  first  time  that  day  his 
mi)ul  was  diverted  from  his  ;)uppy.  lie  he- 
came  suddody  aware  that  he  was  desperately 
hungry,  for  he  had  been  so  excited  at  breakfast 
time  he  had  barely  touched  his  porridge.  lie 
cnitldii't  sit  and  wait  for  that  turkey  to  be 
car\ed  (a  [)rocess  Avhich  would  never  come  to 
an  end,  he  thought)  and  all  those  grown 
people  to  be  helped,  without  wriggling  and 
kicking,  which  he  knew  was  bad  manners.  lie 
had  a  keen  sense  of  smell,  and  the  fragrance 
of  the  turkey  made  the  situation  quite  intoler- 


CHRISTMAS 


;il)le.  "I  don't  like  diiintr  licrc,"  lie  hurst  out 
at  last.  "1  like  it  at  home,  where  there  is  no- 
hody  else  to  he  heljjed  first," 

ills  lather  was  eovered  with  cotd'usion  and 
hiuniliation  at  this  remark.  Sueh  sentiments 
weie  (juite  unworthy  of  Michael.  iVt  home, 
he  comported  himself  like  a  little  gentleman, 
which  he  was  to  the  marrow  of  his  hones;  why 
.slioultl  he  so  suddenly  do  violence  to  his  own 
nature,  and  !)urst  out  hefore  those  kind  neigh- 
l)ours  with  sentiments  ai)})r()priale  nowliere  but 
in  the  henyard  or  the  pigsty:'  It  was  a  most 
])ainful  anomaly  to  his  father,  who  blushed  up 
to  the  roots  of  his  hair,  aiid  blurted  out  in- 
coherent apologies  for  Michael.  ''lie  was  too 
excited  to  eat  his  breakfast-  he  must  be 
liiingricr  than  usual — I  never  knew  hhn  to  act 
so  before — " 

"Poor  little  man  I"  said  Xieder's  mother,  in 
a  tone  so  warm  and  sympathetic  that  Michael's 
father  felt  a  little  eased.  It  showed  that  she 
understood  that  they  were  not  really  monsters 
of  ingratitude  for  a  hospitality  which  had 
touclied  him  to  the  heart,  coming  from  stran- 

115 


1' 


THE  (iLOKV   AND  TIIK  DRKAM 

jTcrs  tliis  fu-st   forlorn   Cliristnias  in  tlic  new 
country. 

Al'tti-  tills  ouU'rcak.  Michael  was  very  ^rood; 
tlie  reproof  lie  .i^ot   from  his  father  was  etfec- 
tive.     His   father  had  merely  looked  at  him. 
and  said:— "Shame  on  you.  Michaeir'  hut  that 
-was  (piite  enou,uh.     Perhaps  it  was  hecause  his 
fathci-'s  re[)roofs  were  raiv  and  hi  icf  that  they 
had    such    an   ellVct    when   they   came.     They 
ua\  :  him  a  l)li^i;hted  feehnii'  all  ovt  r,  especially 
down    his    Ic^i^s.      ]\\i)erience  had   taught   him 
that   he   <iot  over   tiiis   feelin.n-  and   <'-ot  (juite 
hai)pv  a.i^ain,  hut  it  was  most  uni)leasant  while 
it    lasted — so   unpleasant,   that   each   time   he 
called  it  down  on  himself  he  had  a  passionate 
amliition  that  this  time  should  he  the  last.     He 
only  committed  one  more  hreaeh  during  that 
meal.     He  was  hlissfully  i)icking-  his  turkey 
hone,  when  the  notion  suddeidy  came  to  him  to 
do  what  he  had  seen  a  hen  do  once,  with  a  l)i<i,- 
crust  in  her  mouth  that  stuck  out  a  lonn-  way  on 
eacli  side.     Tie  put  the  hone  in  his  mouth,  and 
turned  his  head  ra[)idly  from  side  to  side  as  he 
had  seen  the  hen  do:  hut  his  father  had  only  to 

110 


CHRISTMAS 


s;iy: — "Michael!"  in  a  low  tone,  to  stoj)  liiin. 
He  looked  up  woiuleriii.niy  lor  an  explanation 
of  this  prohil)ition.  What  hai'ni  could  there 
lir  in  doin^'  as  the  hen  did:'  Uut  his  lather 
heuan  to  talk  to  Xieder\  fatliei'.  and  took  no 
more  notice  of  him,  and  he  I'esolved  to  ti'y 
no  nioi'e  experiments.  He  had  '^ot  Xieder 
started  on  the  downward  path,  however,  and 
Xieder,  it*  hai'dei-  to  stai't,  was  also  hai'dei'  to 
sloi).  He  heu'an  hv  shoutinu:  with  laughter 
over  Miehaer.s  gesture,  then  he  imitated  it.  and 
continued  to  imitate  it  for  some  time,  in  spite 
of  jiis  parents'  united  protests.  \\'hen  he  had 
at  last  heeii  ])ersuadeil  to  desist,  he  hegan 
<4rt;wling: — "Waoo  -waoo  waoo,"  over  his  hone, 
like  the  cat,  and  this  was  so  irresistihly  funny, 
that  it  recpiired  a  <iTeat  deal  of  self-restraint 
on  MiehaeTs  part  to  keep  from  joining'  in,  hut 
lie  resolutely  resisted  the  temj)tation. 

After  dinner,  his  pent-up  hi<>h  spirits  hroke 
loose  in  wild  romps  with  Xieder  and  the  pupi)y 
out  in  tl.  kitchen,  which  lasted  till  it  was  time 
to  u'o  home.  As  he  and  his  father  were  on 
their  wav  ther-j,  he  suddenlv  announced: — "1 

117 


li  [.: 


mi 

|| 


4 


ml 


m 


THE  (.r.OKV   AM)  'I'lli:  DUr.A.M 

watit  to  ,u<'  ;iii(l  sec  Susan  and  slii»w  lie  r  my 
l)iij)l)V.  au'l  sli;'  \v;(ii!(  (1  a  knillity  doll.  I  want 
to  see  ir  she  «4()t  oik." 

So  llu'\-  liirmd  in  Sudan's  ^ate  instead  of 
their  own.  Neither  of  tin  ni  Ii;id  ever  In m  in 
Susan's  house  liet'ore.  Michael  was  familiar 
with  its  extei-ior.  It  was  a  hi,L^\  old  lo()kin«r 
house,  somethin^n'  like  the  llehel's  House,  hut 
not  nearly  so  nice.  "IsiTt  it  a  hiir,  solenui 
lookina'  house  for  .Susan  to  li\f  in.'  "  he  asked, 
as  they  a]i|)roaelK(l. 

"It  is,"  his  lather  a.ureed,  remenihcrin,^'  that 
lively  and  ai'tful  little  jxrson  as  she  was  the 
(lav  lie  had  encountei-ed  lui-  in  Xicder's  house. 

Michael  discovered  aiiolher  point  of  infe- 
riority to  the  Ueheks  House  as  they  a|)i)roached 
the  door.  There  was  a  knocker,  hut  there  was 
no  lion's  head  on  it.  Perhaps  ^Michael  could 
not  have  ,uiven  any  other  definite  reason  for  its 
general  inferiority:  the  seci-el  of  it  was  that 
the  inhahilants  were  real  |;eoi)lc. 

Susan  opened  the  door,  and  ]Miehacl  noticed 
first  thin.u'  that  she  had  a  knittity  doll  with  no 
clothes  on,  all  striped  red  and  white,  dan.L];'ling 

118 


(  IIinSTMAS 


.• '"' 


from  hvv  hand.     '"Oh,  you  ,n<)l  your  kniltity 
lie  cNclainicd.     "  Here's  my  pupjiy;  isn't  lii'  a 
htauly  r 

*'M(.iTy  C'hrislnias,  Micluul."  said  Susan, 
with  a  <^raeious  smile,  and  overlooking'  Mi- 
chaeTs  inipcluous  laek  of  eeremony  in  the  most 
(liuniiied  mannei-.  '"I  su[)p  -^e  this  is  \-our 
I'alher.  llow  do  you  do,  Mr.-Mr.— Mr. 
So-and-So.'  rieasc  come  in.  Mother  and 
fatlier  uill  be  so  ^lad  to  see  }-ou." 

"Von  liaven't  looked  at  my  l'U]>pyI"'  eried 
Michael  indi.unantly,  thrustin<^'  him  at  Susan. 

15ut  not  till  she  had  finished  the  \vei<;-hty  and 
resi)on,il)le  business  of  ushering'  them  into  the 
sitting-  room,  and  inlroduein<^-  them  to  her 
mother  (a  pale,  ordinary  kjokini;-  person,  Mi- 
chael thought)  \vould  Susan  oeeujjy  her  mind 
with  anything'  so  frivolous  as  a  pupi)y.  After 
that  she  was  enlhusiastie,  and  cuddled  the 
]nippy  ti.Liht,  declarin-^'  he  was  "i)erfectly 
sweet."  Then  she  exhibited  her  ])rofnsion  of 
Li'ifts.  which  wei-e  strewn  everywhere  around 
the  room.  None  of  them  were  of  any  interest 
to  .Michael,  except  the  knittity.     He  could  not 

119 


1 


Tin:  (;l()Hv  and  tiii:  niu:  v.m 

iindcrslaiul  licr  (kli;;hl  in  a  1)'>\  of  \ni\nv  dolls, 
wliieh  slic  showed  otl"  to  him  uilli  the  uliiio^t 
|»ri(lc'  till  his  iiaticiKc  was  (|uilc  worn  out,  and 
he  luiiK(l  away  to  examine  a  most  allnrinn' 
what-not  lull  ol"  sea  slulls.  and  could  not  he 
jjcrsuaded  to  admire  the  dolhs  tea-set  Susan 
was  wild  with  (K  li.uht  over,  or  the  coral  ncek- 
laee  that  adorned  her.  While  she  was  tryin,«'- 
to  attract  his  attention  to  these  things,  the 
puppy  i^ol  hold  of  the  knittity,  and  hoth  chil- 
di-en  made  a  wild  serami)le  to  his  rescue.  Mi- 
chael caught  the  pui)py  hy  the  .scrulf  of  the 
neck  and  shook  him  so  rou.uhly  that  he  diopped 
the  knittity  at  once,  and  Susan  snatclied  him 
uj).     "Is  he  lir'»r'  'jsk<(l   Michael  anxiously. 

"Xo,  I  don't  helieve  he  is,"  said  Si.  .Ai 
])rou{lly,  I'xaminin.U"  the  /^aily  strijjcd  hody  with 
care.  "lie  was  meant  to  stand  ever>thinL>-. 
you  kjiow,  so  we  can  take  him  up  to  the  Kehel's 
House." 

'He  wasn't  meant  to  stand  i)uppies'  teeth," 
said  Susan's  mother,  "lie  will  tear,  you  know, 
thouL!;]i  he  won't  hreak." 

"I  won't  let  the  l)ui)py  touch  him  a^ain," 

120 


CIIUISTMAS 


said  Mic-liacl.  Uv  had  taker  a  strong-  Cancy 
lo  llic  kiiillity.  llis  naUcdi-.t'ss,  his  sliii>cs, 
his  short,  kinky  hlack  hair,  the  look  of  hohl- 
iicss  and  iini>assi\  iiy  in  a  i(  iinlcnanci'  tonsist- 
in,o-  sokly  of  pale  uink  yarn,  with  two  black 
heads  for  eyes,  a  [nnclicd  s[)ot  for  a  nose,  and 
a  red  Hnc  for  a  month,  «;'avc  him  Ih'j  ai)i)far- 
ance  of  a  i)crson  vvho  wonkl  yo  tlnon^^h  all 
adventnrcs  with  f(inal  imi)crtnrhal)ility— and 
mnc-h  was  re(inirc(l  of  the  heroes  in  the  Rebel's 
Ilonse! 

"What  is  his  namef"  Miehael  a^ked. 

"Mr.  Musteed,"'  said  Snsan.  "He  got  mar- 
ried to  the  Mnsteed  this  morning." 

"Who  is  the  Mnsteed.'" 

"Whv.  snrely  you  know  her.  She  is  my 
other  knittity  (U)ll— the  she,  with  the  blue  and 
yellow  clothes  on."  Susan  .iumi)ed  up,  ran 
away  and  got  the  trusteed,  and  stood  her  uj) 
beside    her    husband.     Just    theu    her    father 

came  in. 

"Hello,"  he  exclaimed  as  lie  stumbled  over 
the    puppy.     "Where    did    this    beast    come 

from?" 

121 


f  i 


5  ! 


«■  r 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


"Tliat    ib   my    pn}^})}-/ 
diunitv. 


said   ^lichacl   with 


'Oh — \uLrre    here?     Have   a    nice    Christ- 


.  /" 


mas 

"Yes,"  said  Michael.     "Here  is  my  father." 

Susan's  fatlier  made  some  rouyli  apolon-ies 
i'or  nol  liaviiio-  seen  and  greeted  ^Michael's 
fatlicr  at  first.  They  liad  a  long  talk  after 
that,  and  it  was  only  when  it  was  time  to  go 
that  Susan's  father  rememhered  his  full  duty 
as  host,  whicli  required  him  to  make  some  jocu- 
lar remark  to  31ichael. 

"Look  out  that  puppy  of  vours  doesn't  take 
to  killin"  sheep  when  he  grows  uj),"'  he  said. 

"My  pui>py  will  never  du  anything  had," 
]Michael  retorted  in(hgnantly. 

"Hill  I  Perhaps  he'll  he  deep  enough  never 
to  let  you  know  if  he  docs.  Tliey're  a  rum  lot, 
those  collies — you  never  can  trust  them.  I 
wouldn't  be  ])aid  to  own  one.  If  he  kills  a 
sheep,  remember,  he  will  have  to  lie  slioti" 

"I'll  never  let  any  one  shoot  him!  1"11  shoot 
anv  one  who  tries!"  cried  Michael,  his  eves 
suddenly  blazing  with  anger. 

122 


m 


I 


CHRISTMAS 

"TlicQ  11  polictnian  will  ])ic'k  you  up  and 
carry  you  oft'  to  jail,  and  keep  you  tiiere  for  the 
rest  of  your  life,"  replied  Sudan's  father. 

This  was  the  nio.^t  awful  [)rospeet  that  eouU) 
iiave  been  held  out  to  Miehael,  yet  he  resolved 
to  faee  it,  rather  than  let  his  pnpjty  he  shot; 
luit  just  at  this  point,  he  notieed  that  Susan 
was  laughing',  so  he  knew  it  must  all  he  a  joke. 
lie  forced  a  smile  then,  although  he  could  not 
see  any  fun  in  that  sort  of  ioke. 

"1  didn't  know  you  weie  trying  to  h  funny, 
till  I  saw  Susan  laughing,"  he  explahied. 

Susan's  father  looked  at  him,  then  he  burst 
into  a  roar  of  mirth,  which  was  extremely 
})uzzling  to  ^Michael.  lie  could  not  see  what 
anybody  could  find  to  laugh  at  in  such  a  simi)le 
statement  of  fact.  "Susan  says  her  father 
says  old  Colquhoun  is  queer."  he  remarked  re- 
flectively on  the  way  home,  "but  I  think  he  is 
(lueerer  himself." 

When  he  was  being  lucked  into  bed  that 
night,  he  said  wiiii  a  great  sigh  of  thankful- 
ness:— "I'm  sc  glad  I'm  not  Susan's  father's 
little  boy!" 

123 


•fe! 


■:^.l 


■- !  ;    i.' 


CIIAPTETl  IX 


THE   DRIVE   TO   TOWN 

It  was  a  grcai  evciU  lo  M icliacl  to  go  to  toMiu 
which  happened  only  once  in  several  months. 
Susan  was  inehned  to  lant^li  at  his  excitement 
over  tile  trip,  lor  she  went  once  a  week,  and  to 
her  it  was  oidy  a  lon<^-,  tedious  dri\e  with  a  still 
more  te(hous  session  in  church  at  the  end.    Ilcr 
parents  Mere  so  convinced  of  the  importance 
of  a  regular  attendance  at  cliurch,  that  they 
sacrificed   their    Sunday   morning's   rest,    and 
were  all  ready  to  start  hy  nine  o'clock,  v»h!ch 
hrought  them  to  civilisation  just  in  time.     The 
benelit  Susan  derived  from  this  pious  pnictice 
mav  ])C  inferred   iVom  a  complaint  she  once 
made  to  Michael  that  "lliey  have  changed  the 
minister  and  got  one  with  a  loud  voice,  who 
Avakens  me  nj)."  and  she  graphically  illustrated 
his  shouts  and  gestures,  prancing  about   the 
landing  in  the  Uebers  House  as  she  had  seen 

124 


HI 

!^  lit 


TIIL  DRIVE  TO  TOWN' 

liim  prance  about  iu^  ])u]})it,  causing  Michael 
and  Xicdcr  to  regard  the  race  of  ministers  in 
anything  Ixit  a  reverential  manner. 

^lichael  (hd  not  Monder  that  Susan  was  not 
fond  of  tri[)s  to  town,  under  those  circum- 
stances; his  trips  weie  widely  (hiferent.  He 
and  his  father  liud  one  about  a  month  after 
Cin-i.-^tmas.  This  w;is  a  bright,  cohl  morning, 
and  Michael  thought  it  great  fun  to  be  i)acked 
into  tile  big  sleigh,  \vi!h  his  l)ui)j)y  beside  him 
and  a  brick  at  his  feet :  they  were  iioth  wrapped 
up  so  srmg  and  tight  that  they  could  hardly 
stir,  then  his  father  got  in  beside  them  and 
they  were  off  along  the  silent,  deserted  road. 
-Michael  delighted  in  the  gliding,  swavinnf  mo- 
tion  of  the  sleigh ;  he  laught  for  [)ure  joy,  and 
cuildled  his  pn])py  close.  ]?ut  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  first  freshness  of  this  delight 
wore  off:  his  active  little  liml)s  grew  intolerably 
weary  of  the  continued  inaction,  and  it  was 
hard  to  kick  and  s(}uirm  in  his  wrap])ings,  and 
the  pupi)y  grew  restless,  too.  Tic  began  to 
ask  his  father  impatiently: — "When  arc  we 
going  to  get  there?"  and  so  eiidle.v^  did  the 

125 


:\i 

: 

iAM 

.  1 

i 

THE  GLOR      AXD  THE  DREAM 

monolciiy  of  snow  unci   siin  and  sk-i<,dil)clls, 
and  long,  lonely  road,  seem,  that  he  wonld  not 
have  heen  in  llie  least  surprisul  it'  his  lather 
had  replied :—' We'll  never  get  there."     How- 
ever,   they    did.    after    a    long,    long    time. 
"Town"'  with  tiieni  did  not  mean  the  melrop- 
olis;    there    was    no    metropolis    within    easy 
reaeh.     Neither  did  it  mean  the  mixed  up  as- 
sembly of  houses,  eaeh  one  rakish,  eareles^  or 
squalid    in    a    distinctly    individual    UKinner, 
scram])led  about  over  liilly  streets  or  huddling 
in    hollows,    an  lid    a    delightful    confusion    of 
noisy  children,  dogs,  pigs,  and  calves,  with  the 
occasional  excitement  of  a  fight  to  bring  the 
habitual  tumult  to  a  head,  and  the  eternal  calm 
of  the  monastery  gardens  ft)r  a  contrast,  which 
had  been  known  as  "the  town"  in  those  far 
away    Irish   days.     As    tiiey    drove    into    the 
straight,  quiet  streets  of  this  town,  with  the 
rows  of  liouses  all  looking  so  solemn  and  well- 
behaved,  and  not  a  sound  lo  break  tlie  wintry 
stillness,  Michael  turned  a  wondering  pair  of 
eyes  u\)  to  his  father.     "'Is  it  just  monks  and 
nuns  who  live  here'"'  he  asked. 

1-JG 


TITE  DKIVi:  TO  TOWX 

"Xo  iiulci'd.  Tlierc  arc  no  inoiiUs  or  nuns 
here  at  all.  The  Sacsaiiaiu'li  don't  have  monks 
o.-  nuns/'  his  i'alher  replied. 

"Is  it  the  Sa('^anai^•il  who  live  liereT' 

"3Ioslly  ])eoj)le  \vhosc  fathers  and  grand- 
fathers \veie  Sacsanaiuh." 

They  di"ove  u[)  to  the  door  ol'  a  store,  and 
got  out,  the  pui)j)y  frisking  wiili  delight  at  tiiis 
velcome  release.  His  fath.ei-  had  a  great  many 
groceries  to  I)uy.  and  ^liehael  and  tlic  pujipy 
amused  themselves  inhaling  the  delicious  odour 
that  pervaded  the  store.  Tlie  princijial  ingre- 
dients were  coffee  and  onions,  and  peihaps  the 
odour  would  not  ha\'e  appealed  to  cultivated 
iiosti-ils,  hut  it  is  douhtful  which  of  those  two 
|)rimitiv('  creatui-es  inhaled  it  with  the  keener 
relish.  They  \\an(lered  u[)  and  down  the 
store,  the  l)uppy  making  friends  with  the  other 
customers,  and  at  last  Michael  said  to  a  man 
who  stood  wailing  to  he  sei'ved: — "Are  there 
any  fights  in  town  to-day  f' 

'l-'ightsr'  exclaimed  the  man.  as  if  he  did 
not  know  what  fights  were,  and  had  never 
heard  of  them. 


■i 


1  i 


i 
I 


12: 


!. 


THE  GLORY  AXD  THE  r)REA:\I 

"P'iglils,"  repeated  Mieluiel  with  vioour  and 
disliiictiiess, 

"We  don't  have  li<;hts  here,  unless  a  few 
fellows  get  full."  replied  the  man,  as  if  this 
were  a  eireuui  4anee  to  he  proud  oi'. 

"What  do  they  get  full  off''  incpiired  Mi- 
chael. 

The  man  made  some  funny  sounds  in  his 
throat.  "Never  you  mind,  ami  see  you  never 
lind  out,"  was  liis  eniguiatieal  rei)ly. 

Mieliael  stared  at  him  for  a  moment,  he- 
wildered  and  euriotis.  Then  he  said: — '"Why 
do  they  have  to  get  lull  l)eforc  they  fight f" 

"Ikeause  they  don't  light  if  they  know  what 
they're  doing,  of  eourse." 

"Do  they  not  rcrnit  to  fight  f"  exclaimed  ^li- 
chael.  in  astonishment. 

"We're  not  sp(^iling  for  tiglits  around  these 
diggings.  I'll  take  a  })ouiul  of  coffee,"  the 
man  said  ahruptly  to  an  ai)proaehing  clerk. 

Michael  was  silent  and  retleetive  during  the 
rest  of  the  tedious  period  in  which  his  father 
was  laying  in  a  store  of  groceries  for  the  next 

128 


THE  DRIVE  TO  TOWN 


tVw  nifiiitlis.  Wluitc'vci'  could  he  the  use  of 
a  tu\S!i  where  theie  wei'e  no  ii^^hts^  ^Vnd  wliy 
were  there  noue  of  ihuh''  lovely  silent  gardens, 
into  which  voii  eoul.I  shp  il'  \ou  were  looked 
on  with  l'a\<)ur  h\'  their  'Jwv,  noiseless-footed 
inhahitants,  and  slee[)  yourself  hi  sunshine  antl 
fragranee,  away  ironi  the  jarring  noises  of  tlic 
outer  world.'' 

lUit  these  reflections  were  soon  hanished  hy 
the  t\rannieal  i)angs  of  hunger,  overriding 
every  other  thought  and  sensation.  Onlv 
after  thev  had  had  a  good  lunch  at  a  hotel  did 
his  mind  once  more  hecome  active  in  other 
directions.  They  Avent  to  another  store  after- 
wards, to  get  oats  for  llie  horses,  and  wheat 
for  the  hens,  and  i)i-an  for  the  cow:  then  they 
went  to  the  ])ostoince,  and  while  thev  were 
there  a  train  came  in.  That  commonplace 
event  was  a  wonderful  phenomenon  to  Michael. 
lie  stood  gazing  as  it  ground  along  over  the 
frosty  rails,  his  whole  small  frame  throhhing 
in  sympathy  with  its  mighty  jmlsations,  his 
soul  swallowed  up  in  the  hideous  hut  majes- 

129 


f 

1 

I 

FtI 

'1- 

1 

JH 

ir 

Tin:  (ii.onv  AM)  Tin:  I)Ri:.\m 


tic  tiniiiiU.     Tlir  shrieks  and  ";ri'.tin,G^  ^n-oans, 
the  ()\cr\vhc!Miiii^'>-  explosions  ol'  the  eseapin.t;' 
steam,  .set   him  on  ctl<4e,  made  liim  want   to 
scream  and  snarl   in  a  passionate  revolt;  and 
yet  lie  was  I'ascinaled.     There  was  soinethinn' 
ill  the  heat  of  the  piston  that  tilled  him  with  a 
delieions  exeitement,  made  him  I'eel  hio-,  and 
stroni"',  and   "kin^ilv/'     lie  wanted  to  know 
all  about  the  wonderful  tiling".     The  hell  l)e<4aii 
to   riiiL;-   presently,    and   he   knew   that   meant 
it  was  ii'oinu-  to  start.     Just  at  that  moment 
he  cau^-ht  si^ht  of  his  ]Mipi)y,  who  had  wan- 
dered away  from  him  nnoI)ser\e('..     The  little 
soft,  wri^'^linu;  form  was  ri^ht  between  those 
a'reat  wheels.      He  had  searceh'  see!i  this,  be- 
fore  he  was  oil'  the  i)!atform,  and  had  him  in 
hi.s  arms;  and  scarcely  had  this  happened,  he- 
fore  he  felt  his  fathei-"s  hands  ^'i-nhbing  him, 
and  he  and  the  pui)py  were  back  on  the  ])lat- 
I'orm,  liis   father  clasj)in,o-  them  ti,L>iit.     They 
were  clasped  much  tiuhter  tlian  was  comfort- 
able; his  father's  chest  was  heavin<i;  strangely, 
and  Michael  knew  lie  was  violently  agitated. 
"I've  got  h.im  (pnte  sale,"  he  said. 

i:K) 


Tin:   l)\U\'V.  TO  TOWN 


"Oh,  Mi-'hati:"'  was  all  the  reply  his  I'allicr 
(■(iiild  iiiak(.'. 

.Mich;itl  had  always  wanted  to  do  soiiiethinijj 
hra\c  to  he  a  |)atriot  and  kill  the  wicked  Sac- 
sanaiuh  who  made  the  I'iii-ioniiaiuh  unhappy, 
or  to  he  a  sailoi',  or  kill  a  lion;  hut  it  ne\er 
oeeuri'ed  to  him  that  he  had  done  anythin;^' 
particularly  hrave  in  sa\  ini^'  his  pupjjy  from 
under  the  wheels  of  an  enuine.  Jf  Susan's 
father  had  a<^ain  accosted  hiia  as  the  wonder- 
ful Michael,  he  ^\•ould  a,nain  ha\c  I'ejjlied,  re- 
ui'et fully,  that  he  had  ne\er  done  anythinij 
wonderful.  He  was  conscious  of  no  mental 
process  whatevei-  i)etween  the  momcfit  he  saw 
the  precious  creature  hetween  the  wheels,  and 
the  HKjment  when  lie  felt  the  soft  hody  in  his 
hands.  lie  liad  not  thou^lit:— "I  \y'\\\  .,a\e 
him,"  or  "I  must  save  him."  He  liad  simi)ly 
saved  him,  without  even  knowing  he  was  doing 
it  until  afterward. 

.All  the  way  home  lie  cuddled  the  puj)py 
close,  and  snuggled  his  face  down  often  l>eside 
the  little  head  that  stuck  out  of  the  wrap})ings. 
"./   sLuirin   mo  citruiJJu!"    (little  treasure  of 

131 


i 


■Hi 


THE  (.LORY  AND  TIIK  DREAM 


iny  heart)  lie  kejit  ertxxiin^'  into  the  dear 
liairy  cars.  "1  coii'dn'l  do  without  him  I"  lie 
told  his  father  oiiee. 

He  took  a  passionate  interest  in  trains  for 
.^onie  time  after  this.  He  asked  his  father  lony 
.stiin^s  of  (jutstions  ahoiit  theni  at  every  meal. 
till  he  had  a  fairlv  clear  idea  of  their  nieelianisni. 
the  jieiils  they  enconnterc  d.  tlie  j)reeautions 
their  engineers  and  conductors  am.  lla^uincn 
had  to  take  to  a\!iid  wi'eeks.  He  forgot  tliat 
lie  had  e\er  \\anted  to  he  a  i)atriot  or  a  sailor 
o!"  a  lion  killer:  tlie  o!ie  eonsuniiiiL;'  desiix-  of 
his  htart  was  to  he  an  en^ivineer.  ^\s  that  de- 
sire ciHild  not  he  immediately  n-ratifled,  the 
next  hcst  tiling'  ^vas  to  play  at  ti'ains  cAcry 
day  in  tlie  Kehc Ts  House,  for  as  lonij,'  a>.  Su- 
san and  Xieder  could  he  prevailed  on  to  do 
it.  The  old  sofa  '.\here  the  corn-cohs  lay  in 
a  row  WAS  eonverteil  iuui  a  train  containing 
passengers  hy  the  sim]>Ie  };r()eess  of  setting 
the  corn-cohs  n{)  against  the  hack,  with  Mr. 
Musteed  at  one  end  for  engineer.  \  soa})- 
hox  was  set  o])posite  li;  Susan  was  packed  in 
(she  was  a  tight  lit)  and  Michael,  standing  in 

132 


Tin:  DRivi:  to  town 


front,  was  engine  and  cn'j,in(.cr  in  one.  He 
imitated  the  whistle  as  well  as  he  could  in  his 
eleaf  niusieal  \oiee,  and  I'an^'  a  lull.  A  plank 
hctweiii  the  two  li-ains  representt-d  a  hri(l;^e, 
and  Xieder,  standing'  on  this  plank,  was  the 
llaurnian,  who  vainly  waved  i:  stick  with  a  red 
iiau'  at  the  end.  The  en^iri'ers  tried  their 
hesl  to  stoj),  and  Mr.  Musteed  succeeded,  hut 
Michael  was  on  a  do\\n  ^rade  i.nd  could  not 
check  his  j)ro;4'ress  hy  the  most  violent  ell'orts. 
Kveryhody  hehaved  with  the  utmost  ,uallanti-y ; 
the  fla<4iHan  did  not  ahandoji  his  po  t  till  Mi- 
chael's train  had  almost  crashed  into  Vr.  Mus- 
teeds,  and  thei'e  was  just  time  to  jumn;  Mi- 
chael's passen,iiers,  in  the  jjcrson  oi'  Susan,  sat 
with  ckisped  hands  and  head  held  hi^h,  \\ear- 
in^'  an  expression  of  the  nohlest  lieroi.'Ui, 
awaitin<^  their  fate;  Mr.  Mustecd's  pas.senfrcrs 
maintained  an  e(iual,  if  less  im])ressive  calm; 
when  the  crash  came,  trains  and  passengers 
were  immediately  dumped  into  the  river,  and 
it  happened  to  he  just  at  the  rapids  (the  com- 
hination  en.Ljine  and  enijineer  overturned  the 
suap-box,    and    the    flagman    overturned    the 

133 


i  i 


Tin:  c.LOHv  AM)  Tin:  Dlir.AM 

sofa).  ^lost  heroically  did  those  entxinccrs 
hatllc  with  the  current,  and  they  were  sucked 
imdir  ill  the  act  of  rescuing  their  passen^-ers 
a^^ain  ;ni(l  a;^aiii;  hut  they  always  succeeded 
lin.ilh'  in  resctiiriiv  everv  one.  Sometimes  Xie- 
(kr  was  llie  comhinati .n  engine  and  enj»-incer 
of  I  lie  soap-hox,  and  Michael  was  the  runaway 
en<4iiie,  dashin«»-  into  him  from  the  other  side 
of  the  room  and  knockinnj  him  over  most  un- 
mercifully; or  else  .Michael  was  the  explodin*? 
en«^ine.  His  explosions  were  a  continual 
source  of  wonder  to  Susan  and  Xieder,  who 
could  not  get  half  the  ami  mt  of  noise  out  of 
tli(  ir  lungs  together,  that  he  could  unaided. 
.Vs  soon  as  the  explosion  took  jjlacc  Susan 
leaped  up  as  high  as  she  could,  Hung  the  soap- 
In  )x  across  the  room  with  a  crash,  and  then 
fell  down  on  Imr  face  and  waited  to  he  rescued 
l)y  the  exploded  cni^iiu  in  his  capacity  of 
engineer. 

15nt  the  next  trip  to  town  was  so  rich  in  new 
experiences  that  it  ])nt  trains  completely  out 
of  Micluurs  head.  This  one  took  place  on  a 
heautiful  May  morning — a  nioi'aing  when  Mi- 


f 


Tin:  DUivi:  to  town 

clmtl  had  been  liii^;linn-  aiitl  «Iancing  will)  joy  in 
every  nerve  from  tlic  nif)iiK'tit  lie  awoke.     lie 
was  ready   for  any  delight   that   niiulit   otkr 
itself;  so  when  he  had  to  elinili  u))  inl<.  llic  fn-nt 
seat  of  the  hi«jf  «jfrecn  waiiunn,  and  inliali    llie 
odour  of  horse  and  harness,  and   look  down 
from  his  eminence  on  Brian  IJoroimhe   (who 
was  growin*;-  up  into  a  do^'  now,  and  had  a 
name    at    last)    exelaiminy    misehievously :— 
"How  small  he  looks  away  down  there!"  he 
thought  there  eould  he  no  i^n-eater  height  of 
happiness.     Then  they  runihkd  otV.  out  of  the 
Liate  and  down  the  hill,  Miehael  shouting  good- 
hye  to  Susan  as  they  jiassed  her  in  her  father's 
field,  Brian  hounding  after  them.     He  had  got 
past  the  euddly  stage  now.  i)ut  he  was  nuieh 
more  servieeable  as  a  i)1ayfi-llow.     He  eould 
race,  and  he  and  Miehael  eon  hi  play  tug  of 
war  with  a  rope,  and  it  was  all  Miehael  eoukl 
do  to  hoUl  his  own  against  him.     Needless  to 
sav,  these  trials  of  strength  were  a  keen  delight 
to  both  of  them.     Brian's  head  and  nose  were 
leno-thenina-  out,  and  the  white  streak  on  the 
top  of  his  head  was  narrowing  down  till  Mi- 

135 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

chael  saw,  with  rcf^Tct,  tliat  it  would  ultimately 
(li.sa})pcar.  lie  hated  to  sec  any  of  Brian's 
attril)utes  disai)])ear;  every  hit  of  liim  \\'as  pre- 
cious. Oil  the  other  liaud,  the  wlute  round  his 
neek  was  wideniuf?.  ^liehael  was  ])roud  of 
that  wliite  collar  and  shirt  front,  and  was  dis- 
tressed on  raihy  mornings  when  it  got  all 
nuiddv  and  soiled.  But  it  was  heautifullv 
white  this  morning.  "Kvr-ryhody  in  town  will 
Vvish  tlicv  had  a  dof);  like  him!"  he  exclaimed 
iovfullv.  as  thev  •■uiuhlcd  down  the  hill. 

When  they  got  on  to  the  river  road,  Mi- 
chael had  the  joy  of  driving  for  awhile.  This 
was  a  magical  joy;  the  only  drawhack  was 
that  he  could  not  hold  the  reins  carelessly  and 
easily,  between  the  thumh  and  fingers  of  one 
hand,  as  his  father  did.  For  him,  the  inexor- 
a])le  rule  was: — "One  rein  in  each  liand."  He 
would  have  felt  so  nuich  bigger,  so  much 
grander,  if  he  could  have  held  them  that  other 
way,  as  if  guiding  a  horse  were  a  mere  in- 
ci(knt  to  iiim. 

Tile  road  did  not  seem  a  bit  too  long  this 
time;  for  one  thing,  there  were  so  many  nice 

130 


THE  DRIVE  TO  TOWN 

smells  ail  the  way.  There  were  moist,  cool 
smells,  suggestive  of  brooks  in  the  woods  and 
splashing  and  puddling  in  bare  feet;  there 
were  warm,  piny  smells  that  seemed  to  tingle 
through  you  with  the  restless  deliglit  of  spring; 
there  were  whiffs  of  violets.  iVlwavs,  on  one 
side,  there  was  the  great,  sunlit  river;  on  the 
other,  there  were  somethnes  woods,  in  the  re- 
cesses of  which  anything  wonderful  might  be 
concealed.  ^Michael  always  peered  eagerly 
into  their  dim  mvstery  as  he  passed.  Some- 
times  diere  were  steep  banks,  with  patclies  of 
\iolets,  or  sti-etelies  of  dandelion-sprinkled 
grass  ujjon  them;  sometimes  there  were  wide 
green  fields.  Brian  poked  along,  deeply  in- 
terested in  every  inch  of  the  road,  snithng, 
burrowing,  the  i)ose  of  his  ears  and  tail  show- 
ing his  absorption.  ^Michael  wr'^ifgled  about, 
and  swung  his  legs,  and  leaned  out  over  the 
wheel  in  a  most  dangerous  manner,  when  any- 
thing special  attracted  his  attention,  and  with 
eyes,  ears,  nose  and  imagination  all  alert,  en- 
joyed himself  hi  evei'y  fibre  of  his  being. 
Sometimes    he     subsided    into     intervals    of 

137 


,i5. 


4«- 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


dreamy  (luict,  letlin-^'  tlie  spring'  sun  steep  him 
to  the  heart;  al'lcr  one  of  these  Intervals  he 
looked  lip  into  iiis  father's  i'aee,  saying: — 
"Isn't  it  nice  to  be  happy  i*" 

He  would  have  lik<'(l  to  40  on  and  on  along 
that  road,  and  never  stop,  hut  they  eanie  to  the 
town  at  last.  Tiie  gardens  were  full  of  red 
and  yelknv  iUjwei's,  glowing  in  the  sun,  and 
when  they  eame  out  of  the  grocery  store  with 
their  purehases  the  air  was  pervaded  with  the 
smell  of  people's  diiniei's,  whieji  set  Miehael's 
appetite  on  edge,  so  they  got  their  dinner  he- 
fore  they  did  any  more  shopping.  ]Miehael 
got  very  tired  of  the  shop])ing.  He  enlivened 
it  in  one  store  hy  seraping  aecjuaintanee  with 
another  little  hoy  who  came  in  while  he  was 
there,  and  that  was  very  !)leasant  while  it 
lasted.  He  told  hiiu  all  ai)out  Brim,  and 
about  coming  out  f'om  Ireland  with  his  father 
the  year  bcl'ore,  and  the  house  they  built  for 
themselve'^'.  The  l)oy  patted  lirian,  stared, 
and  said: — "(iee!"  which  Michael  supposed 
was  the  Knglisli  c(iuiva!cnt  of  " Mahcadli'."  or 
"Ach  aldhc'."  and  accordingly  he  made  use  of 

138 


i 


i 

\ 


THE  DRIVE  TO  TOWN 

it  in  polite  coiivcrsalioii  with  Susan's  mother 
a  l'e^v  (hi\  s  hiter.  In  return,  the  hoy  informed 
liini  that  he  had  had  .searlet  fever,  and  had 
changed  his  skin;  whieh  caused  ^Michael's  eyes 
to  heconie  even  bigger  than  usual,  and  he  re- 
garded tile  bov  as  a  wonderful  and  curious 
heinii".  But  the  hiterview  was  all  too  short, 
for  after  fifteen  minutes'  conversation  the  boy 
Mul'lenly  exclaimed: — "Jimmhiy!  ]Ma  said  I 
had  to  be  back  in  five  minutes  with  a  spool  of 
white  silk  thread,  and  now  she'll  be  chewing 
the  rag  like  mad!" 

"She'll  whatf  exclaimed  ^Michael  in  a  tone 
of  hvely  intere^^t.  lie  always  was  interested 
in  new  words  and  expressions.  IJut  the  boy 
had  already  turned  to  the  clerk,  and  in  another 
minute  had  bolted  out  of  the  store,  leaving  Mi- 
cliail  with  an  enlarged  vocabulary. 

Tlicre  was  nothing  to  relieve  tlic  tedium 
after  this  till  they  went  to  the  shoe  store,  and 
[here  ^Michael  suddenly  became  mischievous, 
and  liad  his  father  and  the  clerk  at  their  wits' 
'  lid  before  he  was  finally  provided  witii  a  pair 
of  new  shoes.     Once  he  was  settled  in  the  wag- 

1^9 


II 


!i 


■  1  ^11 


I- 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


gon  to  go  lioirie  he  sub.^iilcd,  and  was  v  ,ry 
quiet  all  the  way.     It  was  late  by  this  time, 
and  the  low  sun  made  a  glow  of  liglit  on  tiie 
river;  as  he  was  on  tlie  side  of  the  waggon 
next  it,  he  watched  it  all  the  way  home.     The 
mystery   of  the  river  grii)ped   his  heart.     It 
stretched  away  so  far — rigiit  to  the  edge  of  tlie 
world,  where  the  sky  came  down  and  joined  it 
— where  the  sunset  glowed  like  birds  o!"  :)ara- 
dise,  or  toucans'  breasts.     What  wonderful  re- 
gions did  it  not  flow  through  i'     lie  made  U|<  his 
mind  that  some  day  he  would  liave  a  boat,  and 
sail  up  tliat  river  till  he  got  to  where  the  sky 
joined    the    world.     lie    would    find    fairies, 
lions,    toucans — all    the   Monderful   things   he 
coukl  never  iiiid  at  lionie.     Just  tlicn  he  saw 
something  black  on  the  water,  against  tlie  glow 
of  the  sky.     I^^e  watclied  it  witli  jiassionate 
eagerness.     It  was  getting  bigger,— and  com- 
ing nearer;  it  was  one  of  the  wonderful  things 
out    of   tlie    unknown    regions!     Presently    a 
faint  sound  of  music  came  to  his  ears.     "Oh, 
Father,  what  is  that  r"'  lie  asked  breathlessly. 

140 


THE  DRIVE  TO  TOWN 


"I  tliink  it's  a  lumberman's  raft,"  his  father 
replied. 

"1  thou<>lit  it  was  some  fairy  thing,  and  I 
Ihouylit  it  mhjJit  be  a  touean  suiminirig  along 
and  singing,"  saiii  ^Nliehael,  a  little  disap- 
])()inte(l.  Hut  a  lumberman's  raft  was  by  no 
means  devoid  of  glamour.  For  one  thing,  Mi- 
eliael  had  very  little  idea  what  a  raft  was, 
and  he  watched  its  aj)proaeh  with  great  euri- 
(i^iity.  The  singing  became  more  distinct,  a 
hearty,  rhythmic  chorus  that  haunted  Michael 
pleasantly  for  days  afterwards.  Tliey  met 
and  })assed  the  raft.  Michael  surveyed  with 
rager  interest  tlie  great  timbers  bound  to- 
gether, the  rough,  dirty  group  of  men  that 
stood  on  them,  singing.  Their  appearance 
would  not  have  prepossessed  him  under  any 
other  circumstances;  but  thev  came  from  the 
edge  of  the  worhl,  he  had  seen  them  with  his 
own  eyes  emerge  from  the  sunset,  therefore 
tlicy  must  have  drinik  deep  draughts  of  the 
wonders  he  hungered  and  thirsted  for.  And 
what  joy  to  be  paddling  a  raft  down  a  river! 

141 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

"I'm  going  to  be  a  lunilfcrnian  just  as  soon 
as  I'm  big  ciiougii!"  he  aiinouiiectl  to  bis  fatber. 
"Are  you^'  said  bis  lather,  sniihug.  lie 
had  iieard  .Miebael  announce  before,  with  the 
same  decision,  at  (bllerent  periods,  that  be  was 
•roinir  to  be  a  i)atri()t,  and  a  sailor,  and  an 
engineer. 

Ills  lather  was  put  thi-ougb  the  same  sort 
of  eatecliism  about  hunbermen  that  he  liad  been 
put  througli  about  engineers,  with  the  result 
that    :Mr.    Musteed    changed   his    occupation. 
Five  or  six  times  a  day  he  sailed  down  the 
brook  in  the  woods  on  a  raft,  while  Michael 
sang  for  him  the  song  he  had  lieard  on  the 
river:  he  so  fre(iuently  fell  off  his  raft  into 
the  brook  that  he  became  a  most  disreputable 
looking  object.     His  red  stripes  fad  d  out,  so 
did  the  red  line  that  indicated  liis  nioutli;  be- 
sides, lie  got  so  full  of  mud  and  sand  that  he 
could  not  be  shaken,  beaten,  or  washed  (juite 
clean;  but  the  more  war-worn  be  became,  the 
more  highly  valued  he  was  by  Michael.     Every 
fresh  disfiguration  was  a  mark  of  faithful  serv- 
ice, and  brought  him  closer  to  Miehaers  heart. 

142 


Tin:  DUn'E  TO  TOWN 


He  had  many  advenlurcs  besides  those  trifling 
oius  oJ'  nelting  wrecked  with  his  engine,  and 
(hctwned  in  the  brook,  and  shot  in  battle,  which 
were  simply  a  part  of  the  day's  work.  Susan 
was  very  careless  about  leaving  him  lying 
about  in  tjie  woods,  or  in  the  tall  weeds  about 
liie  KebeTs  House.  0\er  and  over  au^ain  she 
scurried  off  when  slie  iieard  the  gong  I'or  din- 
ner or  tea,  lea\ing  him  lying  just  where  she 
luippencd  to  have  had  him  last.  Michael 
always  picked  him  up  and  ran  al'ter  her  with 
liim,  but  one  night,  when  he  saw  her  starting 
(ill"  empty  handed,  he  could  not  find  Mr. 
Musteed.  He  shouted: — '"Susan!  Susan!" 
Iiul  she  ran  on,  paying  no  attention.  He  ran 
a  Tier  her,  and  overtook  her  at  last  in  front  of 
the  Rebel's  House. 

'Susan,  where  did  you  leave  Mr.  Musteed?" 
he  demanded. 

Susan  stared  blankly.     "I  don't  know,"  she 
said  at  last. 

"Then  he's  lost!"  cried  Michael. 

"Oh,  we'll  find  him  to-morrow,"  said  Su- 
san, starting  to  run  off  again. 

143 


111 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREA:\I 


"But  we  can't  leave  liini  till  to-morrow. 
We  have  got  to  find  liini  to-night,"  Michael 
insisted. 

"Mother  will  only  give  nie  bread  and  milk 
for  tea  and  send  me  to  bed  half  an  hour  early 
if  I'm  late,"  said  Susan,  rushing  off. 

"Xieder,  you  stay  and  help  me  find  him," 
said  ^liehael. 

"I  won't.  We  will  have  morells  for  tea  to- 
night, and  they  will  he  cold."  replied  Xieder 
indignantly,  rushing  off  after  Susan.  Mi- 
chael watched  them  disappear  among  the 
weeds,  the  low  sun  giving  occasional  shining 
glimpses  of  Xiedcr's  hohhing  yellow  head,  and 
something  hurt  him  inside  like  a  sharp  stone. 
]Mr.  ]\Iusteed  was  /o,s7/  Wliat  was  a  sup- 
per of  bread  and  milk,  or  cold  morells,  or  even 
his  own  father's  grave  displeasure,  the  loss  of 
a  whole  evening's  genial  cheer,  and  a  sad  going 
to  bed,  compared  to  this  calamity?  lie  could 
not  ffo  home  without  ^Nlr.  Musteed.  lie  didn't 
see  how  Susan  could,  and  X'^ieder  was  a  mean 
little  pig  to  refuse  to  find  him  just  for  the  sake 
of    hot    morells.     IIow'    could    any    one    cat 

144 


THE  DRIVE  TO  TOWN 

niorclls,  or  anytliiii*^  else,  while  Mr.  Musteed 
was  \os\.^.  A  great  sob  escaped  ^liehael  ))e- 
I'ore  lie  knew  it  was  coining-,  and  more  would 
liave  followed  if  he  had  nnt  choked  them  down, 
lie  must  not  crv,  for  he  must  have  his  eves 
to  look  for  Mr.  ^[usteed.  He  was  not  going 
home  till  he  found  him,  even  if  it  took  all 
night.  He  went  hack  to  the  woods,  and 
liuntttl  in  every  spot  wliere  they  had  been  phiy- 
iiig.  along  the  Ijrook,  and  in  the  place  that 
was  full  of  the  little  white  flowers  that  the 
fairies  planted,  and  along  the  great  crumbling 
pine  k)g  that  smelled  so  nice.  For  the  first 
time  these  places  were  devoid  of  charm,  cold 
and  blaidc,  because  Mr.  Musteed  was  lost. 
'I'he  sun  got  lower  and  lower,  and  made  the 
tree  trunks  look  as  if  they  were  all  made  of 
gold,  but  even  this  wonderful  effect  could  not 
delight  Michael  as  it  would  have  done  at  any 
•  itlier  time.  He  scarcely  noticed  when  the  sun 
ilisa])pcared,  and  the  magical  gold  vanished  in 
(hisky  shadows.  All  the  familiar  spots  grew 
dimmer  and  dimmer;  he  had  to  peer  at  first, 
and  then  to  feel,  into  dark  hollows  where  ]Mr. 

145 


|i 


TITK  (U.ORY  AND  THE  DRKAM 


Mush'cd  iiiiL;lil  lie.  Ivirli  (kspcrate  leap  of 
his  heart  i:i  hope  made  tlie  (lisappoiiilmeiit 
tiioi'e  siekeiiiiii;'  wlun  a  closer  look  revealed 
only  pine  needles  or  hlaek  niiiek,  or  his  hand 
met  only  cold  moist  earth  instead  of  the  woolen 
hody  it  aehtd  to  I'eel.  I'^verythinu'  ahout  him 
o-rew  cold  and  damp,  his  hoots  were  so  wet 
that  they  wei'e  ti,nht  and  uneomt'ortahle.  Sud- 
deidy  somethinn'  honnded  against  him,  and 
IJrian  was  licking'  his  t'aee.  He  threw  his  arms 
around  the  don"  and  hui'st  out  sohhin^. 

'"Michael!"'  his  father's  voice  exclaimed. 
"We-e  yon  lost  f' 

"I'm  not— lost — it's  Mr.  31usteed!"  sohbed 
Michael. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  (d(i)iu(ih?  What  has 
kept  yon  here  all  this  time:'  I  thought  you 
were  lost,  and  1  have  been  huntinn'  everywhere 
for  you."  His  father  had  i)icked  him  up  and 
was  earrviui''  him  home,  l)ii>'  and  heavy  thoui^h 
he  was. 

"I  couldn't  come  home  till  I  found  Mr. 
Musteed.- — and  Susau  and  Xieder  wouldn't 
lielp  nie — Susan  was  afraid  of  \vn'  mother — 

ItG 


Tin:  nnni:  to  towv 


;iii(l  Xicdcr  N\ anted  his  tea — and  Mr.  Miistced's 

lostr' 

Mic'liac'l  did  not  often  ciy  as  he  cried  i-n  the 
way  home  that  evening'.  Jirian  kej)t  juini)- 
iii;^'  up,  ti-yin^'  to  naeh  him  to  eomt'ort  him. 
When  thty  "jot  home,  his  I'athei'  made  a  hiiif 
liic-  in  the  tiiephice,  atid  st't  liim  down  het'ore 
il.  and  told  him  lie  was  cold  and  must  ^"et 
waiiiied  up;  hut  .Michael  himseU'  did  not 
leali/e  that  he  \\  as  cold,  although  he  was  shiver- 
ing, or  realize  anythin<i-  e.\cej)t  that  Mr.  Mus- 
leed  was  lost.  His  father  hathed  his  feet  in 
liot  water,  and  ^',a\e  him  a  di'ink  of  hot  milk, 
lie  never  could  drink  hot  milk  afterwards 
without  renieml)erin^'  the  ni/^ht  ^Ir.  Mustccd 
was  lost.  Then  his  father  tried  to  make  him 
eat  .something-,  i)ut  the  food  seemed  to  stick  in 
the  i)lace  where  the  sharp  stone  had  heen  when 
he  saw  Susan  and  Xieder  running  home 
through  t'e  weeds.  When  he  went  to  hed, 
Brian  showed  his  sympathy  and  c(  ncern  hy  in- 
sisting on  curling  u})  on  his  feet. 

Tor  some  days  after  that  he  wore  out  Su- 
san's and  Xieder's  ])atience  by  his  i)ersistence 

147 


i{j 


Tin:  c;l()1iv  and  tiii:  diikam 

in  luiiiti!!-  for  Mr.  Miislt-td.     He  irl'iiscd  to 
play  at  aiiylirm,-,  till  Mr.  Mustcrd  was  round. 
At    last,  OIK'  (lay.  lu-  caim'  to  a   jjlair   in   tlic 
l)io(.k  wliciT  a  lot  of  riil.l)isij  was  stuck,  and  a 
muddy  tiling'  with  two  Ic.us  han,<>in^-  down  was 
caunlit  thcTf.      In  a  UKuncnt  lie  had  pidlcd  it 
outraud  was  sliakin--  ntV  llir  mud.     The  nhjcct 
liad  two  anus,  and  a  head,  and  when  several 
layers  of  nuid  were  removed,  he  diseovered  that 
there  we,e  two  hlaek  heads  I'or  eyes.      It  did 
net  matter  In  the  least  to  I'diehael  that  it  was  all 
\v<.hl)ly  :.nd  floppy,  and  there  was  not  a  hint 
left  of  the  red  and  while  stripes  that  had  heen 
so  nay,  and  the  most  thorou.U'h  washing-  in  the 
hrook  wouhl  still  leave  it  a  urimy  ohject;  this 
was  Mr.  Musteed,  more  dearly  heloved  than 
ever,  :uid  with  wild  shouts  of  joN  he  amiomiced 
the  di^  (Her-  of  the  h'st  hero. 


148 


CIIAl^TKK  X 


i  1 


liv  tliis  time  Micliael  and  old  ("<■'  |iilioim  luul 
licc'ome  <^Tcal  friciids.  Micluitl  often  went 
<»\er  to  see  liini,  always  hriniiinnp  ]Ji-ian,  for 
old  Cohiiilioiin  liked  Brian,  and  ^ratified  Mi- 
chael's sensitive  pride  in  liini  hy  warm  and  dis- 
criininatinn-  praise.  Jes.-ie  was  always  nlad 
'o  see  Brian,  too:  as  soon  as  slie  saw  tl'eni  com- 


nid  nioii 


tii- 


in,<r  slie  bonnded  np  to  liini,  lick  in; 
in^>-  him  all  over,  with  ekKjuent  o-runts  and 
uroans  of  afFeetion,  while  he  lay  dcwn  and 
luxuriated  in  this  treatment.  "What  does  si 
do  it  forr"  Miehael  often  asked. 


le 


'Is  it 


111 


no  strange? '  remarked  okl  Colquhoiin, 

a  profoundly  speculative  tone.     One  great 

itfraetion   old    Colquhoun   had    was   that    he 

directly,  and  in- 
with    mvstcrv. 


loun 
seldom  answered  a  nuestion 
vested    the    simplest    sul 


eet 


TIIK  GUnW  AND  THE  DREAM 

Tliis  habit  was  tantalisin.i;,  exasperating  sonie- 
tiiiics,  but  it  was  (kli.^btt'ul,  to  any  one  who 
loved  mystery  as  Micluul  (bd. 

Jessie  bad  only  one  of  ber  puppies  left  now. 
Tliis  was  a  ]Hippy  eallcd  Tani  o'  Sbanter.  just 
Hrian's  size,  and  exactly  like  bini  in  colour  and 
niarkinu's.     Tani's  white  streak  on  the  head 
disa])pcared  just  wiicn  Brian's  did:  like  Brian, 
be  bad  a  white  collar  and  sliirt  front,  v.hite 
paws,  one  foreleg'  white  u\)  to  the  knee,  and 
a  'vhite  ti})  to  tlie  tail.     r>ut  be  was  not  really 
a  i)it  like  Brian:  be  v/as  what  Michael  called 
"a  wiu'u'lv  wanu'ly  do;^"."     lie  showed  his  afi'ec- 
tion  by  windinu'  biuiself  around  vour  feet  and 
firovellinu'   under   vour   boots.     Jessie   v.as   a 
solenni  doii,'.     She  f(.llowed  her  master  about 
when    he    was    working    outside,    slowly    and 
n-ravelv,  watcbiu'''  evcivthin<>-  be  did;  'f  be  was 
sittinu-  on  the  stcjis  talkin<^r  to  Micliael,  Jessie 
sat  down  beside  li'm  with  the  utmost  diij^nity, 
and  scarcely  moved  ubile  the  conversation  was 
<voin<^'  on.     Brian  and  Tarn  ))lavi'd  about,  and 
Jessie   scMnetimes   turned   her   head   to   watch 

150 


OLD  COLQUIIOUN 


tlieir  movcincnts,  with  a  regal  tolerance  for 
such  frivolous  proceedings. 

"Jessie  is  a  grand  dog,"  Micliael  remarked 
once,  almost  awed  l)y  the  solemnity  of  iier  as- 
pect, 

"She  is  that,  ^Michael,"  i"plied  old  Col- 
(lulioun,  and  ^liehael  knew  at  once  from  his 
tone  that  he  had  pleased  him  more  than  he  had 
e\er  pleased  him  hefore.  Then  he  added 
sorrowfully: — "Her  son  will  never  be  like 
iier/' 

"He's  just  the  same  colour,"  said  Michael. 

".Vw  yes,"  said  old  Cohpihoun  slowly.  "If 
!l  was  only  colour!  ^la  Jessie's  getting  auld, 
and  1  was  foolish  enough  to  think  a  puppy  o' 
liers  would  grow  perhaps,  no  to  111!  her  place 
— nae  dog  can  do  that,  .Tessie — hut  to  sort  o' 
niak'  a  break  i'  the  blank,  when  she  is  deid." 

^Vt  this  point  Jessie  turned  round  to  her 
master,  and  slowly,  gTavely  put  her  paw  into 
his  hand.  He  took  it  silently,  looking  into  iier 
lace  for  a  moment.  "'It's  fearsome!"  he  said 
presently,  under  his  breatli.     "Mon,  it's  fear- 

151 


i    i 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

some !  It's  no  safe  to  speak  o'  oiiything  before 
her.  Sometimes  I  think  she  kens  ma  verra 
thoelits!" 

"Did  slie  understand  wliat  you  were  say- 
ing C"  asked  Miehael,  in  breathless  awe.  Jessie 
was  rapidly  beeoming  invested  with  the  mys- 
tery that  surrounded  her  master. 

"I  eanna  tell.  But  I'm  thiukin'  I  dinna  ken 
ma  auld  Jessie  sae  weel  as  she  kens  me." 

From  that  day  the  stately  old  dog  had  all 
the  faseination  of  something  "no  canny,"  to 
use  CoKpihoun's  expression,  for  Miehael.  lie 
used  lo  waleh  them  sitting  together,  and  de- 
liu'htful  sliivers  ran  down  his  baek.  lie 
gradually  became  convinced  that  old  Col- 
(pihonn  had  been  at  one  time,  if  he  was  not 
actually  at  present,  intimately  associated  with 
fairies.  Cohiuhoun  did  nothing  to  dispel  this 
idea,  indeed  he  seemed  to  enjoy  it.  Michael 
could  never,  by  the  most  persistent  (juestion- 
ing,  get  him  to  say  he  had  ever  had  dealings 
with  them.  l)ut  be  encouraged  the  idea  that 
they  abounded  everywhere,  atul  might  any 
time  be  discovered  among  the  underbrush  in 

152 


OLD  COLQUIIOUX 


the  woods,  or  the  tall  weeds  about  the  Rebel's 
House,  or  in  the  dim  and  dusty  recesses  of 
I  he  old  barn.  He  had  a  wav  of  talkiu"'  about 
I  hem  that  made  them  more  and  more  myste- 
rious and  cxeitiiig.  One  day  Michael  brouf>'ht 
him  one  of  the  "ilowers  the  fairies  i)lante(l," 
explaining-  that  it  Avas  too  white  and  small  and 
heautiful  to  be  a  real  flower.  Old  Colquhoun 
looked  at  it,  and  said: — "Weel,  wecl."  rfome- 
!io\v,  after  that,  Michael  could  almost  see  where 
the  fairies'  hands  had  touched  it. 

Once  he  brou^t^ht  Susan  and  Xieder  to  see 
C'ohjuhoun,  but  that  was  not  a  succeshful  ex- 
j)criment.  They  stared  and  looked  blank  at 
t\  cry  thing-  he  said.  Susan  was  confirmed  in 
licr  impression  that  he  was  ({ueer,  and  Xieder 
agreed  witli  her.  They  took  their  departure 
much  sooner  than  ^Michael,  and  as  Colquhoun 
watched  Xiedcr's  retreating  back,  he  remarked 
nitditatively  to  Jessie: — "Von's  a  braw,  hale 
heastie.     1  ken  ilka  thing  he'll  do  a"  his  life." 

"\\'hat  will  he  dor"  in(iuircd  .Michael  cuii- 
ously. 

"1  canna  be  fashed  tellin'  ye,"  re})Iied  old 


THE  GLOllV  AND  THE  DREAM 

Colqulioiiii  carelessly.  "IIe".s  a  guid  laddie, 
a  verra  u;\nd  laddie,  I  ha'e  nae  doot.  and  hell 
be  a  uuid  ir.on.     liut  he's  iiiieo  lame!" 

^Michael  felt  hot  at  this  eritieisiii  of  Xieder. 
lie  would  not  have  minded  half  as  mueh  hear- 
ing- an\-  other  fault  attributed  to  his  plavmate 
as  that  of  heing  "uneo  tame."  He  had  always 
hated  tameness  so.  "Xieder  is  a  tine  fellow," 
he  retorted.  "If  you  played  with  him — I 
mean,  il'  you  were  a  little  boy,  and  played  with 
him. — you  would  know  how  inee  he  is.  ' 

"Xae  dcot,"  said  old  Cohiuhoun.  "But  he's 
gey  easy  to  ken.  I  dinna  like  to  ken  onybody 
ower  week" 

The  summer  passed  on,  and  Brian  and  Tarn 
not  bigger  and  bigger.  They  still  kept  pace 
exactly.  "Isn't  it  funny  that  they  look  ex- 
actly alike?"  Michael  said  one  day.  "One  isn't 
even  any  bigger  llian  the  other." 

"l>ut  tliey're  no  alike.  Your  Brian  is  going 
to  be  like  .lessie  when  he  is  grown.  Even  noo, 
1  sometimes  catch  the  grave  look  in  lii..  e'en. 
]Ma  Tarn  is  nae  inair  like  Jessie  Ihan  if  he  hadna 
a  drap  o'  her  bluid  In  liis  veins.     I  cauna  like 

lo4 


OLD  COT.QUIIOUN 

Tarn;  I  liinna  patience  wi'  liis  ways.  He  kens 
ouer  weel  to  use  liis  e'en  at  ye,  and  kiss  and 
Avheedle.  There's  nae  diK»ity  in  liini.  I'm 
tliinkin'  he'll  no  end  weel." 

Miehael  sometimes  felt  sorry  for  Tarn,  wlien 
lie  saw  how  coldly  and  sliarply  the  dog-  was 
treated  by  his  master,  hut  he  could  not  like  him 
either.  His  hlandishments  were  a  little  too 
effusive  even  lor  a  small  boy  who  was  l)y  no 
means  inclined  to  he  fastidious.  It  soon  be- 
came evident  that  Brian  disliked  him  also. 
They  became  peevisli  and  irritable  at  their 
play,  and  began  snarhng  and  showing  their 
teeth  at  each  other;  at  last,  one  hot  afternoon, 
they  flew  at  each  other's  throats.  Before 
eitiier  of  their  excited  masters  could  intervene, 
Jessie  had  stopped  the  fight  by  one  calm  bound 
Itetween  them.  After  that,  INIichael  never 
I)inught  Brian  over  to  old  Col(]uhoun's. 

His  father  became  hiterested  in  old  Cohpi- 
houn,  as  he  heard  a  great  deal  about  him,  and 
remarked  one  day: — "1  think  he  miglit  come 
iivtr  to  see  me  sometimes."  Accordingly,  Mi- 
chael inquired  when  he  Mas  sitting  on  old  Col- 


l 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


i: 


qulioiin's    doorstep    that    afternoon: — "Why 
don't  you  come  over  to  see  my  father?" 

"I've  heen  tliinkin'  I'd  like  to  ken  your 
feyther,"  said  old  Colquhoun;  but  just  as  :Mi- 
chael  was  opening  liis  lips  to  urge  him  he  ab- 
ruptly changed  the  subject.  Every  time  Mi- 
chael broached  it  he  behaved  in  the  same  man- 
ner, till  at  last  Michael  succeeded  in  pinning 
him  down  to  a  reason.  He  blurted  it  out  in 
such  a  funny  wav  that  Michael  thought  he  must 
be  shy — but  surely  old  men  were  never  shy. 
"I'm  no  used  to  gaeing  into  ither  people's 
hooses,"  he  said.     "^la  claes  are  no  fit." 

"They're  not  much  worse  than  Susan's 
father's,"  said  Michael,  surveying  him  criti- 
cally. (Susan's  father  would  not  have  been 
flattered.  Old  Cohjuhoun  was  at  present  ar- 
rayed in  an  undershiit  and  a  pair  of  trousers.) 
"He  came  over  yesterday  in  a  vest  pinned  with 
a  safety  pin." 

"Ye  ken  ma  coat— it's  ripped  doon  tlie  back. 
Na,  na,  I  couldna  gae  into  onybody's  hoose  in 

that!" 

"Father  would  show  you  how  to  mend  it. 

lo6 


OLD  COLQUIIOUX 

lie's    learned    to    sew    up    rips    and    put    in 
patches." 

Old  Colqulioun's  face  suddenlv  cleared, 
lie  looked  at  ^licliael  for  a  niomeiit.  ''Oh!" 
lie  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  joyful  relief.  "It's 
juist  your  feyther  and  yourself?" 

'"Ves,"  said  Michael.  He  thought  the  sud- 
den alacrity  with  which  old  Colquhoun  yielded 
was  due  to  the  prospect  of  being  taught  how  to 
mend,  and  he  joyfully  escorted  him  over. 
After  that  he  was  a  frequent  visitor,  and  he 
and  .Miehael's  fathe-  became  great  friends. 


157 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE   TOUCAN 

MiCTTAF.L  never  (juito  rorn:ot  his  desire  for  a 
toiiean,  altliounh  it  was  very  niiieli  in  the  baek- 
m-oiiiul  this  summer,  the  ••ames  in  t.ie  woods, 
and  old  Col(iuhoiin.  and  Brian,  were  all  so  ab- 
sorbing.    But  one  day,  when  he  was  having 
one  of  his  'iui])py  hy  myself  times,"  he  wan- 
dered out  into  the  Held  where  the  squash  and 
melon  hills  were.     It  was  almost  dinner  time, 
and  there  was  a  deep  hush  over  everything. 
It  was  a  hazy  day,  and  there  was  something  in 
the  air  that  made  ^liehael  feel  good.     It  was 
the  first  hint  of  fall,  with  the  attendant  cosiness 
and  cheer,  hut  M  iehael  did  not  know  that.     He 
(  nly  knew  he   felt  nice  all  through,  and  he 
wanted  to  go  olf  hy  himself  to  thi!ik.     iVs  he 
was  wandering  about  among  the  squash  hills, 
he  suddenly  saw  something  golden,  with  a  long 
curved  neck,  among  the  leaves.     Here  was  a 

158 


THE  TOUCAN 

toucan — at  last!  lie  pounced  on  it  at  once, 
tnre  it  away  from  anion^-  the  leaves,  and  rushed 
into  the  house,  shoutin^i"-  to  his  father: — "I've 
I'ouud  my  toucan!     I've  JVnmd  my  toucan!'' 

His  father  (hd  not  say  that  it  looked  to 
him  remarkal)ly  hke  a  crookneck  squash.  He 
smiled,  and  said  it  was  a  line  toucan,  and  let  ]Mi- 
chael  (lei)osit  it  on  the  end  of  the  hench  where 
the  water  pails  stood.  Why  he  should  choose 
that  particular  spot  for  the  niaoic  hird,  and  why 
it  was  never  moved  from  there,  Michael  himself 
(lid  not  know,  and  certainly  nohody  else  did. 
liut  every  mornin^^  as  soon  as  he  got  up,  and 
L'vvry  night  hefore  he  went  to  hed,  he  ran  to  the 
liench  to  stroke  his  "golden  heautiful  toucan," 
and  he  did  the  same  whenever  he  came  home 
IVom  a  drive  to  town.  He  saved  choice  morsels 
from  every  meal,  and  set  them  hefore  it. 
IJrian  became  very  fond  of  that  end  of  the 
hench. 

It  was  so  golden!  Such  a  rich,  satisfvin<r 
golden.  Michael  loved  all  golden  and  yellow 
Ihiugs.  Perhaps,  if  I3rian  had  been  black  or 
i^ro^ni  or  white  instead  of  yellow,  he  would 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


have  loved  lilm  as  well,  Imt  liis  love  would  not 
lia\e  heeii  of  just   the  same  j)()i;4iiai\t  nature. 
Certainly  lie  eould  have  ^loritied  nothing  of 
a   tamer  hue,  as  he  did  that  golden  touean. 
One  ehilly  Septemher  evening  they  were  driv- 
iiiGj  home  from  town  after  dark;  the  wa<^'^on 
had  to  he  repaired,  and  I'ionn  had  to  he  shod, 
hesides  all   the  usual  slioppinn-,  and  this  had 
kej)t   them   late.     ^liehael's   father  was  tired 
and  sad;  it  was  not  unusual  for  him  to  he  sad, 
but  he  fj^enerallv  coneealed  the  faet  from  Mi- 
ehael.     To-day,   however,   many   little   things 
had   been   oeeurring  to   induee   a   fit   of   dis- 
coura<>ement,    and    to    a^;l,^'a^ate    the    lonely 
heartaehe  of  whieh  Miehael  had  only  onee  had 
a  faint,  dindy  understood  <,dimi)se — the  time 
he  had  eried  after  seein<»'  Xieder's  mother,  and 
his  father  had  shown  sueh  tender  eom])rehen- 
sion  of  his  tears.     It  did  not  alleviate  this  lone- 
liness to  know  he  was  eominn-  home  to  a  dark, 
eold,  empty  house,  and  would  have  to  light 
the  fire,  eook  the  tea,  attend  to  the  horses  and 
cow,  and  })ut  Michael  to  bed,  before  he  eould 
retire  to  his  own  well-earned  rest,     lie  had 

160 


Tin:  Tore  AN 


been  sad'loiK'd,  too,  Iiv  tlic  si;4lit  of  a  t'orloin 
little  Uiiiiily  ^roiij)  that  ,:^(»t  oil  tlic  tiaiii  vliilr 
lie  was  at  the  si  ttion:  a  woman  with  a  j)alc, 
i  ri;  htiiifd  i'ac'i.'  *|)hiiiily  tlic  lace  of  a  siraiiycr 
in  a  sti  in^f  land),  a  l)al)y  in  Iicr  amis,  and 
anoti  cr  child  hi  side  her,  and  a  fr.'il  lookinij; 
Ml  in,  a<4ed  hy  illness,  who  cai-ried  a  hnndle  in 
one  hand  an  I  leaiivd  heaxily  on  a  cane  with 
tlK  other.  Miehael's  father  could  not  get 
tJKin  out  of  his  head.  '"Those  ])oor  jjcople!" 
he  hroke  out  to  Mirhael  wh^n  thev  were  nearlv 
li'MUe. 

-What  i-eopleT'  asla  '  Michael. 

"Those  people  we  saw  at  the  station — • 
Iniuly  st landers,  li  e  ourselves,  tr\  ing  to 
scratch  a  home  together  "n  the  new  land." 

'■JJut  why  ai"e  they  poor  pco{)le?  It's  tlie 
greatest  fun!  Do  you  think  they're  going  *.o 
I)uild  a  hoiise  for  ilieniselves,  like  us.  Do  you 
n menihi  r  what  good  times  we  had  building 
onr  house?" 

"Yes,"  rci)lied  his  father  listlessly.  Mi- 
chael was  (juick  'o  feel  the  lack  of  sympathy 
in  his  tone. 

161 


■11 


Tin:  (;i.()RV  AND  Tin:  dream 


'■A\';iMri  it  I'lKi'"  liu  iiisislc'd. 

"(ircal  I'lm  lor  you,"  his  I'atlier  ro])lic'(l 
lica\  ily.  'riuii  lii'  suddenly  IVll  a  stab  ol"  scH'- 
iv[)r(»arli.  Had  lie  not  always  gloried  in  liis 
sotTs  hi^h  s[)iiit  and  coinai^v:'  Had  he  any 
ri^ht  to  cast  a  dainpi  i'  on  the  hoy  htcausc  lie 
happtiud  to  hf  cold  and  tired  hiniselt'.  discour- 
aged and  liunnry^  '■^'es,  it  was  I'un  I'or  both 
of  us,"  he  added.  "And  no  doubt  tliose  [jcople 
will  net  I'un  out  n['  it  too,  il'  they  ^^o  al)()ut  it 
the  iii;ht  way.  I  was  only  sorry  t*or  tlieni  be- 
cause they   looked   tii'ed  and  strange." 

i\s  they  tuiiied  u|)  the  hill  their  house  was 
only  \  isi!)le  as  a  dark  blot  in  the  starlinht,  but 
Michael  exclaimed: — '"Look!  There's  a  bcaii- 
til'ul  •golden  li_nht  in  the  window!  It's  the 
toucan!"  Ah  they  turned  in  the  gate,  he 
cried: — "It's  singing  a  loud  sweet  song  be- 
cause it's  glad  we  are  coming  back!" 

The  house  that  was  so  dark  and  dreary  to 
his  lather  as  they  entered,  was  lull  of  a  golden 
glow,  of  song  and  cheer,  for  him.  His  father 
often  thought  that  he  was  unconsciously  try- 

1G2 


Tin:  Tori  AN 

iiiH'  to  make  the  toucan  supply  tlie  wariufli  and 
hii^litness  a  niollicr's  j)rc!5eiiee  would  lia\e 
n-iven. 

The  toucan's  loud  sweet  sou<j^  had  nia^n'cal 
powers.    iVhout  this  time  >riehael's  i'ather  read 
Kipling's  "Juu<4le  liooU"  to  him.  and  the  hook 
took  so  stroun-  a  hold  of  MiehaeTs  ima^iuatiou 
that  he  fairly  li\  ed  in  it  i'or  months  afterwards. 
Tile  hlaek  eat  heeame  IJah^^eera  the  panther, 
and   never  a^^ain   suhsided   into  a  mere   hlaek 
eat.     The  commonplace  IMyniouth  Uock  hens 
were  transformed  into  M'olves    (surely  a  tri- 
umph of  ima^nnationl),  while  one  with  a  rose 
eiimh    was    Motiier    \Volf.     Every    ni^dit    she 
came  to  the  house  and  made  a  disturhance,  and 
IJrian  and  Bah^eera  fou^dit  her  in  vain — she 
was  hent  on  mischief,  and  got  in  hy  all  sorts 
of  fantastic  means,  such  as  stealin<^  into  the 
cellar  and  gnawing  a  hole  through  the  floor. 
Jhit  as  soon  as  she  heard  the  toucan's  loud 
sweet  song  she  slunk  away,  conquered  and  suh- 
(hied.     When  lirian  was  naughty  the  toucan's 
loud  sweet  song  made  liini  good,  and  it  had 

1G3 


THE  {.T.ORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


the  same  eftVet  on  Midiacl.  One  nii^lit,  as  lie 
was  u;oiu}^  to  lied,  his  father  praised  him  for 
having  heen  a  partieularly  ft'ood  hoy. 

"Oh,  that  was  heeanse  the  touean  was  sing- 
inn-  all  day,"  he  replied. 

IJut  unfortunately  the  toucan,  if  it  had  a 
nii<>'htv  soul,  had  a  sadlv  perishahle  hod  v.  It 
hei^an  to  get  hj-ick  si)eeks  all  over  its  hack. 
This  did  not  distress  Michael.  lie  knew 
toucans  had  hlack  hacks,  and  this  one  was  ])roh- 
al)lv  onlv  iiolden  all  over  at  rirst  hecause  it  was 
young.  Of  course  as  it  grew  older  it  would 
get  like  other  full-grown  toucans.  A  twist 
came  in  its  neck,  too,  hut  Michael  loved  it  just 
as  well.  lie  was  not  one  to  turn  the  cold 
shoulder  on  his  fii'iids  for  any  such  trifles. 
His  father  r.nderstood  and  respected  this  feel- 
ing, and  so  he  endured  the  toucan  for  a  long 
time,  hut  at  last  he  felt  that  it  really  was  his 
dutv  to  decree  its  i'(.ino\al.  Susan's  father 
and  Xieder's  father  looked  at  it  with  extia- 
ordinary  expl•e^^i()ns  e\erv  lime  tl-.s.  >  came, 
and  to  attempt  to  explain  its  presence  would 
lia^e  l)ecn  worse  than  useless.     Xot  that  this 

1(>4 


THE  TOUCAN 


iiad  anv  influence  in  dccidinLf  Michaers  father 
lo  dispose  of  the  toucan.  Xeiohbourly  oriti- 
eisni  was  a  mere  triHe,  compared  to  the  pain 
of  broaching  the  subject  to  ^Michael.  His 
courage  failed  him  again  and  again,  bnt  at 
last,  one  evening,  he  remarked: — "^Micliacl,  I 
am  afraid  that  poor  old  toucan  won't  last  much 
longer." 

"It  isn't  old — it  is  only  growuig  up.  It 
sang  its  loud  sweet  song  all  day  tt* day,"  ]Mi- 
cliacl  protested. 

"It  is  old,"  his  father  nisisted.  "Yon  have 
kept  it  a  very  long  time,  Michael,  and  I'm 
really  afraid  it  will  have  to  be — "  jNIichael's 
I'atlicr  paused  as  if  something  had  stuck  in  his 
throat.  Any  of  the  common])lace  expressions 
one  might  apply  to  a  cro(^kneck  squash— 
"thrown  ont,"  or  "destroyed,"  (^r  "hurned" — 
sounded  so  outrageously  brutal  when  applied 
to  a  "golden  beautiful  toucan." 

"Oh,  Father,  you're  not  going  to  make  me 
give  up  the  toucan'^"  exclaimed  ^Michael  pite- 
ously. 

"Yes,  Michael,  I  must.     It  really  can't  be 

165 


,  it-  I 


THE  GLOUV  AM)  Till:  DKKA.Al 

kept  in  the  lunisc  any  loiin-cT.  T  know  you 
will  be  a  good,  brtive  boy,  and  not  make  a  i'uss, 
when  1  say  it  will  have  to  be  done.  It  will 
have  to  be  done  to-morrow." 

So  Michael  went  ([.lictly,  if  sadly  to  bed, 
determined    to    be    brave    and    not    make    a 
fuss,  although  the  amputation  of  a  limb  could 
hardly  have  tried  his  courage  more  severely. 
Of  course,  very  unpleasant  things  had  to  be 
faced, — lie  knew  that,  although  he  had  never 
had  to  face  any,  except  the  removal  of  a  few 
loose  teeth.     The  lirst   time  one  of  his  teeth 
had  begun  to  wagule  he  had  been  much  dis- 
tressed, and  had  gone  to  tlic  cupboard  to  look 
for  something  to  slick  it  in  wilh.  but  thci-e  was 
nolhiuii-  on  the  shelves  that  looked  promising, 
so  he  had  been  obliged  to  tell  his  father  about 
it,  although  lie  knew  ])y  instinct  that  the  con- 
sequences   would   not    l)e   agreeable,     lint   he 
had  borne  tlicu!  bravely,  and  when  the  ordeal 
was   over   had   smiUd    and    said:— 'I'm    glad 
now!"     This   was  his   lirst  acquainlance   wWh 
j)ain.  and  altiiough  it  was  a  brief  one,  it  g'.ivo 
him  some  idea  of  how  brave  soldiers  had  to  be. 


Tin:  TOUCAN 


rt  was  after  tins  that  lie  .somehow  n()t  the  iilea 
liuit  a  <ireat  many  tinpleasaiit  thinns  had  to 
he  ciKhired  in  the  w(jriJ— that  was  the  differ- 
t  nee  hctween  the  worll  and  Heaven.    His  last 
lh(.u^ht  as  lie  fell  asleep,  on  the  ni<,ht  oi'  the 
e()!iv(  -sation  reeorded  ahove,   was  that  there 
wa-,  dreadrnl  unpleasantness  in  store  for  him 
to-morrow,   hut   he  must   he   brave   id)out    it. 
j-irst    tliinu-    when    he    awoke,    and    saw    his 
J'l.ther   li-htin^-  the   tire,  he   remembered  this 
uuplea.>antness.     When    he    tried    to    eat    his 
l)re:dd'ast    evc)-y    bite    stuek    halfway    down, 
like    the   night    ^Ir.    ^Musteed   was   lost.     He 
was  determined  that  lie  zconhl  eat  his  break- 
f'-i^t— every  bite— and  show  his  father  that  he 
meart  to  be  good;  but  he  could  not  eat  the 
last  two  l)ites  of  toast.     He  fixed  his  eyes  on 
the  eruiii])s  on  the  table,  and  tried  to  divert 
his  thouohts  bv  plaving  that  one  big  crumb 
\\as  the  town,  and  a  little  crumb  some  distance 
away  was  their  waggon  on  the  way  to  town, 
liut  in  si)ite  of  his  determined  absorption  in 
this  i''va,  he  felt  the  tears  coming,  and  knew 
tlie\   would  burst  from  him  in  another  instant 

107 


it 


Tin:  (iLoiiv  AND  Tin:  drkam 

if  he  coiitimied  to  sit  tlicrc,  so  he  jumped  up, 
and  iiimounced  that  he  was  goin**-  to  the 
Kel)el's  House.  He  skip()ed  out  of  the  door, 
kickiii<^'  up  liis  heels,  as  if  he  were  in  the  hi^-h- 
est  spirits,  hut  once  out  of  si<4ht  he  iinhdn-ed  in 
a  passionate  outhurst  of  tears.  Then  he  went 
on  to  the  KeheTs  House,  and  was  very  wild 
and  ^ay  and  noisy  all  mornin;^-;  but  he  nev(  • 
once  forgot  that  when  lie  came  home  to  dinner- 
he  would  find  tlie  end  of  the  bench  empty,  and 
no  "ufolden  beautiful  toucan"  would  linht  up 
the  house  on  dark  niyhts  any  more.  He  came 
home  slowly  and  sorrowfully,  and  tried  not 
to  look  at  the  end  of  the  bench  as  he  went  in, 
but  somelhin^r  speckled,  with  a  twisted  neck, 
cauglit  liis  eye,  and  he  looked  again.  His 
toucan  was  still  there! 

He  thought  his  father  had  forgotten  to  "do 
it"  (he  shrank  from  specifying,  cyen  in  his 
own  mind,  what  his  father  would  do),  and  that 
the  end  of  the  bench  would  certainly  be  vacant 
at  tea-time.  But  it  was  not.  Xeitiier  was  it 
\acant  at  bedtime.  The  next  day,  and  the 
next,  the  toucan  still  remained,  and  nothing 

168 


Tirr:  Tore  an 

more  wns  said  al)()ut  i.  execution.  .Miclia«-1 
wondcicd  wliy  liis  faMn  r  had  ehan^'ed  his 
mimh  lie  woiuli  cd.  a  iitlle  anxiously,  if  lie 
i  ally  had  hren  ,<;'ood  ahout  it.  \'es,  lie  had. 
He  h  dn't  made  a  hit  of  a  fuss.  Ilaviiin'  sat- 
islied  liiniscir  that  iliis  was  nc^t  the  cause  of 
his  father's  chant^e  of  mind,  he  eeas'-d  to  s])ecu- 
iate  (in  the  suigect,  and  ojdy  felt  ^lad.  He 
never  dreamed  that  his  endeavour  to  eat  his 
hreakfast  as  if  ii'-thin^  was  the  matter  had  (h-ne 
iiKM'e  to  unman  his  father  than  any  fuss  would 
iiave  done.  The  toucan  remained  on  the  end 
of  the  l)enc]i.  and  dried  and  shrank  and 
siirivelled,  till  it  was  mostly  twisted  neck;  hut 
its  -olden  li^lit,  still  undimmed,  and  its  loud 
sweet  son,n\  filled  the  house  with  ^bry  and  joy 
for  Michael. 


1 

'|i   1 

;| 

If 

-|§: 

■IF 


Ml 


1G9 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE    MURDEU   OF    MR,    MUSTEED 

Michael  was  sooii  to  find  that  all  fathers 
were  not  huilt  on  the  same  lines  as  his  own. 
One  morninii;  Susan  a})i)earcd  without  Mr. 
Musteed.  When  Michael  asked  her  where  he 
was,  she  replied:— "Oh,  Michael,  father  put 
him  in  the  st(ne  this  morniiif^'.     He — " 

"JVIiatr  cried  .Alicluiel.  ":Mr.  Musteed 
isn't  burned  u[)i"' 

"Ves,  fatlier  took  him  out  of  my  hand  and 
said  he  was  too  lilthv  for  me  to  carry  around 
any  more." 

.Michael  I'elt  as  if  some  great,  heavy  thing 
had  shut  down  witli  a  hang  on  the  joyful  world 
in  which  he  nuned,  blotting  out  light  and 
ha])piness  by  one  awful  stroke.  He  couldn't 
believe  that  Mr.  .Musteed  was  burned  up — 
could  uvvcY  be  rescued,  never  be  found  again 
— that    he   would   never   again   see   or   touch 

170 


TOE  MUllDKK  OF  Mil.  MUSTEED 

that  dear  wobbly  body.  He  was  i'urious  with 
ra<rc  at  Susan's  father,  and  liurt  at  Susan  for 
tlic  ntatter-of-fact  tone  in  which  she  related  tlie 

tra^i^edy. 

'■It  was  murder:"  he  roared.     '"That's  what 
It  is  when  one  man  puts  another  man  in  the 

stove!" 

"But  he  wasn't  a  man— he  was  only  a  doll." 

"1  don't  believe  you  care  an  old  ricketty 
lirokcn  hook!" 

"Of  course  I  was  sorry,  but  mother  gave 
me  such  a  beautiful  piece  of  green  silk  for  a 
(hcss  for  Jane  Do^e.  It  was  out  of  an  old 
(h-ess  of  hers  that  was  worn  out.  Just  wait 
till  you  see  Jane  Dove  dressed  up  in  it!" 

"1  don't  want  to  see  her." 

"Don't  he  cross,  Michael.  It  was  because 
he  was  so  dirty  that  fatiier — " 

"Vour  father  "s  as  cruel  as  an  old  wolf!" 
^lichael  burst  out. 

Susan  stared  at  him  for  a  moment.  "You 
scalawag!"  she  ejaculated,  quite  forgetting  in 
her  indignation  that  this  expression,  altliough 
hcT  fatlier  occasionally  used  it,  did  not  fall  in 

171 


'if 

*  h  I 

4  ,S 


Tin:  (iLoHV  AM)  Tin:  i)iu:.\.m 


vitli  hvv  inotlicr's  ideas  of  rkuaiit  diclion. 
"1  low  dare  you  f  Such  a  lie!  TU  never  sj)cak 
to  you  a,ij,.iiii,"'  and  Su^an  turned  and  dashed 
baek  towai'ds  the  liouse.  Michael  w  is  some- 
what suri)rise(h  (Generally  it  was  hijusell'  or 
Xieder  who  were  Ihi'  a,u;iiressors  in  a  ([uarrel, 
and  Susan  \\  ho  meekly  and  t(  arl'ully  mourned 
tlieir  (Uspleasure.  and  made  the  lirst  overtures 
(if  [)eace.  He  and  Xieder  were  graciously 
pleased  to  regard  her  as  'a  good  tempered 
little  thing."  Tliercl'ore  Michael  was  sur- 
prised at  this  outburst,  l)ut  he  did  not  care. 
He  did  not  want  to  siieak  any  more  to  a  girl 
who  could  he  consokd  for  the  murder  of  .Mr. 
Musteed  hy  a  [)i'ce  ol'  green  silk  for  a  doll's 
dress. 

lie  and  Xieder  jilayed  alone  in  the  UeheFs 
House  I'or  the  next  ihree  days.  All  its  charm 
v>as  temporarily  gone  l';)r  ^liehael.  The 
emptiness  that  had  i)een  so  (klightrully  sug- 
gestive, so  j)i'(/duetive  ol'  ii'iaglnary  lorms,  was 
cold  and  dreary  and  lileless;  from  the  olil 
sofa,  from  the  soap-h":<,  from  Ihe  stairs,  from 

172 


^ 


TIIK  MrilDCU  OF  MR.  MUSTEKD 

ovcry  window  inul  every  empty  corner,  from 
(lie  urey  dead  weeds  outside,  ^Ir.  ^lusteed's 
al'seiiee  staled  iiim  in  the  face  and  sent  a  eliill 
tliionnh  liim.  Tiie  celio  of  their  voices  tlirou'^li 
the  eni})ty  rooms,  that  used  to  deh^lit  liim,  was 
ohastiy  now.  IJesides,  althou^di  lie  would  not 
acknowledi-^e  it,  lie  felt  the  neetl  of  Susan. 
Without  her,  Nieder  couhl  not  he  engineered 
Miiooihly  through  any  more  imaginative  play 
than  running  races,  and  seuilling  and  wrestling 
and  having  jumping  matches  off  the  stairs. 
All  these  amusements  were  fascinating,  of 
lourse;  there  was  great  exhilaration  in  heat- 
ing Xleder  in  a  race  all  round  the  house  and 
I. Mil  together,  and  in  jumping  from  the 
fourth  step  of  the  stairs  halfway  across  the 
hall,  while  Nieder  could  only  jump  from  the 
third,  and  sometimes  tumhled.  But  three  days 
of  the  same  sports  hecame  rather  monotonous, 
and  whenever  ^lichael  tried  any  ])lay  with  im- 
aiiinary  peojjlc  in  it,  Nieder  was  intolerahly 
stujjid,  and  generally  ended  hy  getting  cross. 
Susan  was  reallv  no  more  imaginative  than  Nie- 

173 


! 
I 

1:  i 


-Mm 


Tin:  c;l()KV  and  riii:  dream 

(Itr,  but  sliu  was  (iiiickcr  lo  takt'  iij)  Mlcliacl's 
ideas,  aiul  ciitircd  ( iilliiisiaslically  into  any 
I)lay  that  proiiiixd  (Irainatic  silualiniis,  espe- 
cially if  she  eciiihl  (iuuie  i)ii'hires(juely  in  it. 
Xieder  followed  where  two  led,  l>iil  v  as  more 
iiieliiied  to  assert  hiiii>ell'  when  he  had  only  one 
playmate;  so  Mieliai  I,  ailhou.uh  he  lelt  he  eould 
never  like  Sosan  auain  \\hene\er  he  ihou.uht  of 
tlic  ^reen  silk  diess.  found  hinisdf  miNsin<;'  her 
against  his  will,  l-^e.y  day  he  expeeted  lo 
see  her  eomin«;'  to  make  uj)  fri.  tids,  and  every 
(hiy  he  was— ^^lad,  of  eourse,  when  she  d.dn't, 
for  he  was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  would  make 
up  friends.     .\nd  yet — 

The  third  evening,  at  tea,  his  fatlier  l)eu:an 
to  iiKpiire  into  the  matter.  ''Is  Susan  siekf" 
he  asked. 

"1  don't  know."  said  >rieluiel. 

"I  haven't  seen  her  with  yon  lately." 

Miehael  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  Then 
he  said  hriefly: — "We  (piarrelkHl." 

"Quarrelled?     What  about f' 

"Mr.  Musteed." 

There  was  another  silence.     Then  Michael 

171 


Tin:  MTHOKii  or  mu.  misiked 


.s;ii<I.    in   ;i    I'liokcd   voice 
(Kitil  liiiii." 


:— "IT 


cr 


ill 


ItlK 


niiir- 


\\ 


lat  do  von 


nu'iin,  Mic'liaeir 


MiclKitl  scl  down  his  cnj)  of  chocolate,  and 
Imh'sI  inlo  sohs. 

'ilc  hurncd  him!  IT  took  him  ont  of  her 
hand— and  hniiicd  him  u])— a!i<l  her  mother 
fi^avc  h<  r  ui'cen  silk 


oi-  a  (loll  s  (Iress.  anc 


d  tliat 


le  u]) — she  doesn't  care  about   Mr.   M 


us- 


in;'( 
led!" 

•It's  too  l)ad.  a  dor!     Was  that  why  you 
quaiTcUcd  with  herf 

"Ves.     At    least,    she   quarrelled    with    me 
first,  hut   1   haven't  tried  to  make  up  friends. 


She  doesn't  usnallv 


■t  anuiA'.  hut  I  said  her 


father  was  a  cruel  old  wolf. 


anc 


Isl 


le  ea 


lied 


me 


a  scalawag,  and  said  it  was  a  lie,  and  she  ran 
away  and  has  never  made  up  friends,  and  I 
don't  want  to.     A\.  least — I  don't  think — " 

"^Wll,  Michael.  I'm  very  sorry  about  Mr. 
]Musteed,  and  1  don't  think  nuicli  of  lier  for 
hein'4'  consoled  hv  a  \)'\vvv  of  <4"reeii  silk,  l)ut  if 
you  c:dled  her  father  a  cruel  old  wolf,  there's 
somclhiuii  to  be  said  on  her  side." 

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THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


''But  he  is  a  cruel  old  wolf!" 

"Would  you  like  any  one  to  call  your  father 
a  name  like  that?" 

"I'd  knock  any  one  down  if  he  did!" 

"Then  you  shouldn't  say  it  about  anybody 
else's  father." 

"But  you're  different  from  anybody  else's 
father!" 

"Susan  thinks  her  father  is  different,  too. 
It  isn't  gentlemanly  to  say  unpleasant  things 
to  people  about  their  fathers.  It  isn't  what  a 
little  Irishman,  with  the  blood  of  kings  in  his 
veins,  ought  to  do,  no  matter  how^  angrv  he 
gets." 

"What  does  having  the  blood  of  kinsrs  in 
your  veins  mean?"  demanded  ^Michael  excit- 
edly. 

"It  means  that  the  great-great-great-grand- 
fathers of  the  great-great-grandfathers  of  all 
Irishmen  were  kings,  because  long  ago,  before 
the  Sacsanaigh  came,  Ireland  was  full  of 
kings.  Some  of  them  were  brave  men,  tiiat  we 
ought  to  be  proud  to  have  come  from." 

"Do  you  mean  that   I'm  the  great-great- 

17(5 


n^ 


THE  :\n:RDER  of  :\rR.  musteed 

great-grandson  of  a  king:"  inquired  Michael, 
witli  shining  eyes.  This  was  wonderful!  He 
had  never  dreamed  he  had  anything  to  do  witli 
a  king. 

"Not  quite  so  close  a  relative  as  that,"  his 
father  replied,  smiling.  "Some  king  was  proh- 
ahly  your  grandfather,  so  far  hack  that  you 
couldn't  count.  When  we  get  so  far  hack  as 
that  we  don't  call  them  grandfathers — we  call 
them  ancestors." 

"Was  he  a  brave  king?"  inquired  Michael. 

"Verv  likelv.  And  a  little  hov  with  a  hrave 
kiuir  for  an  ancestor  has  no  husiness  to  be  in- 


sulting people  al)out  their  fathers." 

"I  won't  do  it  again,  if  the  king  wouldn't 
have  done  it,"  replied  ]Michael. 

"Do  you  know  wliat  I  would  do  to-morrow 
morning,  if  1  were  in  your  place?"  his  father 


mciun 


■ed. 


"What?" 

"I  would  go  over  to  Susan's,  and  tell  her  I 
was  sorry  for  what  I  said  about  her  father,  and 
make  it  up." 


'Have  I  got  to  go 


177 


THE  r.LORV  AND  THE   DREAM 

"I  was  only  lcllin<,^  you  what  I  would  do  in 
your  place." 

Somehow,  no  matter  liow  3Iichacl  disHked 
the  thouo-ht  of  doing  a  thino-,  l,e  always  came 
round  to  it  after  he  heard  that  his  father  would 
do  it  in  his  place.     Many  a  time  this  had  urged 
him  to  the  peaceahle  performance  of  a  distaste- 
ful duty,  M-hen  a  comniand  would  have  meant 
passionate  rehelhon.     And  he  was  not  at  all 
sure  that  he  did  altogether  dislike  the  idea  of 
uiaking  uj)   friends.     Indeed,  heforc  he  went 
to  sleep,  he  found,  to  his  great  surprise,  that 
he  wanted  (juite  hadly  to  sec  Susan  again,  al- 
though of  course  he  could  never  like  her,  after 
the  <rven\  silk  husiness.     Next  morning,  vdien 
lie  woke  up.  he  decided  to  go  over:  and  when 
he  sat  down  to  hreakfast  he  was  so  anxious  to 
go  that  he  could  hardly  Mait  to  eat.     AVhen  he 
M-as  through  he  ran  over  to  Susan's  as  hard  as 
he  could  pelt,  and  came  panting  into  the  barn- 
yard as  Susan  was  holding  a  squalling  hen  for 
her  father  to  cut  its  wing.     He  was  surprised 
that  Susan  was  still  the  same  little  red-coated 

178 


THE 

MniDKR 

OF 

MR. 

MUSTEED 

figure  she 

had  hfLU  1 

)ng 

ago, 

1)ef'ore  the 

quar- 

rcl. 

"Susan, 

I've  conic 

to 

say  I 

'm  sorry  I 

callcd 

your  fathc 

IT  a  cruel 

old 

wolf 

,  and  won 

't    YOU 

make  up  1 

"ricndsf"  he  a- 

ked. 

lie  had 

meant 

\v 


to  sav,  with  indifferent  dignitv: — "Will  voii 
make  up  friends'"  But  the  more  coaxing 
formula  and  tone  had  escaped  him  unawares. 

Susan's  father  looked  up  quickly,  stared, 
then  burst  into  his  boisterous  laugh.  "Well, 
you  do  beat  the  Dutch  I"  he  exclaimed. 

Perhaps  that  laugh  had  something  to  do  to- 
wards making  Susan  amenable.  "Will  you 
never  say  it  again?"  she  inciuired,  with  twice 
the  dignity  Michael  had  meant  to  assume. 

"No.  lie  can  never  murder  Mr.  Musteed 
again."  replied  ]Michaei. 

"All  right.  We'll  make  up  friends,"  said 
Susan. 

Her  father  stared  and  laughed  again.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  laughed  at  everything.  ]Mi- 
chael  planted  himself  before  him,  -with  legs 
A\  ell    apart   and   fists    involuntarily   clenched, 

179 


1^ 


it 


THE  GLdRV  AND  THE  DREA:\I 

and  a  fire  in  lils  eyes  that  sobered  and  aston- 
islicd  Snsan's  I'atlier.  '"Did  yon  tliink  it  was 
I'unny  to  ninrder  Mr.  ^In^leed.'"  he  demanded. 

"Xo,  1  was  (jnite  sorry  to  liave  to  bnrn  the 
little  heii'u'ar." 

"He  wasn't  a  Iieggai'l" 

"Good  L'.raeions!"  exehiimed  Snsan's  father. 
Beiiig  a  j)ions  ehnreh-u'oer,  he  ne^'er  nsed  any 
stronq-cr  expression  than  tliis,  l)nt  he  used  it 
often  enougli,  and  vehemently  enougli,  to  make 
lip  for  the  ones  lie  didn't  use.  "' Vou're  a  regu- 
lar little  spitfire  I  I'm  thankful  yrtu're  not  my 
kid,  you  zcdidd  he  a  iKUidful  to  manage."  Su- 
san's father  thus  uneonsc  ously  reeiproeated 
the  sentiments  Miehael  had  expressetl  the 
Christmas  before. 


180 


CIIArXEU  XIII 


w 


MR.    JANE   DOVE 

The  construction  of  Jane  Dove's  new  di-css 
took  a  couple  oT  weeks,  and  Susan  herseli'  had 
a  hand  in  it.  Her  niotlier  thought  it  an  ex- 
cellent way  to  teacli  her  to  sew.  E\erv  after- 
noon  she  went  home  early  from  the  Uebel's 
House,  savin<>'  with  lier  most  inn)ortant  air: — 
"I  must  do  somethin^n'  at  Jane  Dove's  dress 
now."  At  last,  one  afternoon,  she  a])i)eared 
dancing  and  smiling.  "Jane  Dove's  dress  is 
finished!"  she  cried. 

^lichael  said  nothing.  He  still  could  not 
forgive  Susan  for  her  joy  over  that  dress. 
Xieder  remarked  indilferently: — "That  so?" 

"Boys,  you  7nust  come  right  over  and  see 
her  in  it!"  said  Susan. 

"I'm  not  going,"  said  Michael. 

"Oh,  Michael!"  said  Susan,  in  a  tone  of 
great  disappointment. 

181 


II 


THE  GLOKV  AND  THE  T)1U;.\:\I 


]Micliacl  stai-lcd  up  to  the  Kcbcr.s  Ilonsc, 
his  licad  thi'o'.vn  hack  in  a  \\i\y  wliich  Susan 
knew  iniL'cated  iiis  least  amenable  mood. 

"You're  nuanl"  she  called  after  him.  "Xie- 
der,  you'll  come.  Mon't  you'"' 

Xieder  ae([uieseed  goodnaturedly,  l)ut  ^^l[h- 
nut  any  s])ceial  cnthusia-in.  A\'hen  they 
joined  Michael  at  tlic  Keljcl's  House  Susan 
exclaimed: — ".Jane  Dove  looks  so  line  in  her 
new  dress  that  I  said  to  Xieder  she  ou^lit  to 
^et  mari'ied  now,  and  lie  said  she  mi^ht  as 
well!" 

Still  stern  silence  on  Michael's  part.  X^ie- 
der  iiKjuircd  indiilerently : — "Have  you  a  he 
I'or  her  to  ^et  married  to?" 

"Perhaps  Santa  Claus  \\  ill  l)rinp:  me  another 
knittity  for  Cliristmas.  and  then  we  can  have 
one  to  play  with  up  here  anain." 

"What's  the  u.se  of  ,i;'ettinir  another  one? 
Your  father  would  just  burn  him  a<^''ain,"  said 
Michael. 

"Oh,  I'd  try  to  kec])  him  cleaner." 

"Xo,  you  wouldn't.     You  would  leave  him 

182 


V 


MR.  jam:  dove 

Iviiiij  round  in  the  dirl  ]u>,[  the  same  wav  vou 
left  Mr.  .Miisteed,"  rv\A'wd  Mieliael. 

"^'oii  ')()y.s  did  a  lot  more  to  dirty  ]Mr. 
Miisteed  than  1  did.  Oh,  1  want  so  mueh  to 
have  Jane  Dove  ^et  married!"  said  Susan. 

'"Can't  you  talk  ahout  anythini^'  hut  Jane 
Dovef  demanded  3Iiehael. 

'"Xo,  I  ean't — she  is  so  heautil'ul!  I'm  so 
anxious  to  have  her  ^et  married  while  her  dress 
is  nice  and  nevv!" 

"\Vell,  she  had  hetter  marry  an  invisihle 
man  that  vour  father  can't  burn,"  said  Mi- 
cliael. 

"^Ir.  Mustced  was  so  mucli  nicer  than  an  in- 
visible person.  I  would  like  another  kiiittity 
just  like  him,  but  it's  a  loni;-  time  till  Christmas 
yet,  aijd  I'm  in  such  a  hurnj  for  her  to  i^^et 
married!  3Jiehael,  do  you  think  you  could 
find  a  very  nice  man  for  her  in  the  woods?" 

The  task  of  finding  a  'ccry  nice  man  for  Jane 
Do\e,  whose  name  he  loathed,  did  not  appeal 
to  ^Michael:  but  the  llebel's  House  was  sadly 
in  need  of  a  hero,  and  the  thought  of  an  in- 

183 


'I 


TITK  GLOHV  AND  Tfli:  DIU: AM 

visible  hero  was  irresisliMy  rasiinatinn-.  After 
all,  tlieie  was  Jio  reason  why  M  f.  Jane  Dove 
should  not  he  an  iiiliiiilely  more  adniirahle 
person  than  his  hiide,  so  after  some  hesitation 
Michael  jMomised  to  find  him  in  the  woods  next 
mornin,!^,  and  the  weddin<;  would,  of  course, 
take  jjlace  as  soon  as  he  was  found. 

"We'll  have  it  up  here,"  Susan  said.  "I'll 
hrin<4'  -^'I'l^'  Dove  up  iii  her  carriage,  and  be 
very  careful  of  her." 

Xcxt  mornin,^'  Michael  and  Xieder  were 
much  surprised  to  encounter  Susan  all  in  her 
Sunday  best.  "What  are  you  dressed  up  as 
if  you  were  going  to  church  for?"  inquired  ;Mi- 
chael. 

"reoi)lc  always  put  on  their  very  nicest 
clothes  when  they  go  tf)  weddings,"  rephed  Su- 
san. "Vou  boys  ha\ttrt  dressed  up  at  all! 
You  look  like  a  pair  of  tram])s." 

"I'll  find  a  coat  made  of  gold  for  each  of 
us  when  I  go  to  the  woods,  and  a  golden  sword 
to  hang  round  our  middles,"  said  Michael. 

.Jane  Dove  was  I'cposing  in  her  carriage, 
with  her  golden  curls   spread  out  against  a 

181 


^ii{.  jam:  dove 


111 


hack^i^round  ol"  wliilc  \cil,  and  a  wrt'alli  ol' (.■\ci'- 
lastiiin's  on  Ikt  head.  I  Icr  sDlcinn.  \. leant  wax 
fat'c  \sas  slai'inL:,'  up  at  the  sky.  Mi^'Iuifl 
looked  at  licr  scorntnlly.  So  ///c//  was  tlio 
lliini;"  whose  luw  di'css  ronld  console  Snsan  for 
the  ninrder  ol'  Mi'.  Musteed!  She  didn't  de- 
ser\e  a  niee  man,  she  (leser\ed  a  i»ad  one.  l)nt 
as  her  hnshand  ^vas  to  lie][)  them  in  all  sorts 
of  wonderl'nl  deeds,  he  must  he  ^ood  and 
i»ra\e. 

Michael  picked  n[)  one  ,^old  coat  under  the 
stuni])  I'ence,  and  another  a  little  farther  on  in 
the  woods,  and  the  swords  were  I\ini;'  under 
a  pine  lo^\  He  liad  to  _uo  a  ncxjd  deal  farther 
along  l)efore  lie  saw  a  paii-  of  IeL>'s  swinging 
fi'oni  a  hraneh.     "Hello!''  he  called. 

"Hello!  "  replied  a  voice. 

'"I'm  looking  for  a  man  to  marry  Jane 
Dove,"  said  Michaeh 

"All  right,  I'll  come,"  said  the  invisihle  man, 
and  jum})e(l  down  beside  Michael. 

As  they  walked  hack  together  Micha'l 
foinul  the  future  31r.  Jane  l)o\  e  to  he  just  the 
kill',!  of  hero  he  had  wanted  verv  hadlv  to  know. 

185 


fl 


Tin:  (;l()uv  and  tiii:  drkam 

He  Ii;i(l  once  Vwtl  in  Ii'hmd  jiiid  lictii  a 
pMtriot.  ;iii(|  had  iim  his  ^word  tlir()U(r|i  ten 
Sacsaiiaiuli  |)()lic'<.nuii  (lu'  u;is  wearing'  the 
sudid  at  present).  'I'hen  lie  had  ^cne  to  sea 
in  a  ship  called  the  liri(/lit  Stiirliiuj  Out,  and 
had  re-cucd  a  .nicat  many  |)e(iple  he  I'ound 
di-owninn'.  and  had  tiled  \(i-y  hard  to  ^et  to 
the  North  Pole,  and  had  ,L>()t  tieai'  enonnji  to 
sec  it  onee.  Then  he  had  mailed  uj)  the  river 
in  the  liriuht  Slaii/'iii/  O/il,  and  had  sailed 
away  oil'  into  the  wondcrlnl  region  wliere  the 
Iiiinhcrnien  lived.  a?id  he  had  seen  lions,  and 
shai-ed  .Michad's  amhition  to  kill  one.  ^Vnd — 
lie  had  seen  fairies!  lie  had  seep,  them  flvinn- 
hackwards  and  t'orwanls  across  the  river,  and 
once  he  had  seen  one  in  the  woods,  iii  the  vcrv 
spot  where  they  wei'e  walkino-  now, 

"I  /.//ftc  they  lived  here!"'  cried  :\ric]iacl. 
"Oh,  I  want  to  hear  all  ahout  them,  hnt  Ave 
can't  wait  to  talk  al)oiit  them  now.  hecaiise  Su- 
san is  in  such  a  liiirry  to  net  Jane  Dove  mar- 
ried. Von  will  just  have  to  have  patience  with 
Jane  Dove.  I'm  afraid  she's  an  awful  stu- 
pid." 

186 


Mi{.  .iam;  1)()Vi: 


"That    (kKsii't    inattir,"    replied    the    licro, 
politely. 

Susan  met  tlieiii  at  tlie  door.  "Have  vou 
got  the  man:'"  she  iiuiuired. 

"Ves,  I  have,  and  he  is  a  line  fellow.  Xie- 
(ier,  here  aiv  yoiii  c-oai  and  s\\()rd," 

Susan  set  .Jane  Dove  up  in  the  earria^^e,  and 
carerully  arranged  hei-  \eil.  "Doesn't  she 
look  sweet.'"  she  iiKiuired,  kissing  her  warmly. 
".My  heautil'ul  darling  .Jane  Dove!"  Then, 
turning  to  .Miehael,  she  demanded:— "Where's 
the  manf" 

"He's  here,"  said  Mieliael. 

"What  does  he  look  hke^' 

"He's  tall,  and  he  has  enrly  hair,  and  he 
has  a  sword  hanging  fVf,m  his  michlle  that  has 
J)ecn  through  ten  Saesanaigh  polieemen.  It 
is  all  red  yet,  though  he  has  washed  it  several 
times." 

The  soap  box  was  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  hall,  with  Susan's  toy  tea-set  on  it,  and  a 
buneh  of  heart's-ease  in  the  centre.  This  was 
the  festal  hoard,  and  they  all  gathered  around, 
sitting  on  the   floor   Avith   their  knees  up   to 

187 


Tin:  GLORY  AND  THE  DRKAM 


tlieir  cliiiis,  Jane  Dove  in  licr  ('arria<4c  occupy- 
ing- one  end.  At  each  jjlace  tl'ei'e  was  a  tiny 
parcel  tied  with  while  ril>h()n,  wiiieh  proved  to 
he  a  ho\  eoiitaininu'  a  piece  of  cake.  This  was 
the  only  tannihle  viand. 

"We're  eatin^i'  tapioca,"  said  Michael,  "and 
we're  drinkin<ji'  ciujcolate."  These  were  his 
favonrile  delicacies. 

"We're  having  cauliflower  with  sauce  too," 
said  Susan. 

"And  we're  liaving  a  grca':  big  ])udding," 
said  Xieder,  who  was  capal)le  of  a  flight  of  im- 
agination where  f'ooil  was  concerned. 

After  the  feast  they  had  a  dance,  which  con- 
sisted in  junii)ing  about  the  room  till  they  were 
tired.  Michael  (kligliled  in  the  clanking  of 
the  swords,  especially  Mr,  Jane  Dove's. 

"I  guess  they're  married  now,"  Susan  said 
at  last.  "I'll  take  her  I.onie.  I'm  afraid  of 
something  happening  to  her,  and  mother  said 
not  to  stay  uj)  here  in  my  good  clothes." 

Mr.  Jane  I);)vc  j/roved  a  very  servicealdc 
hero  in  the  months  that  followed.  He  had  a 
horse  called  Black  ^Viisler   (Michael's  father 

188 


MR.  JAXE  DOVE 


I 


Iiad  finished  readin.ir  the  "Juiiolc  Book"  to  Mi- 
chael now,  and  -JJlaek  Beauty"  was  its  suecess- 
<"•) .     lihiek  Au.ster  i)enan  hy  beintj^  a  repHea  of 
J^hiek  Beauty,  hut  he  o-rew  into  a  verv  (h'lrer- 
ent  sort  of  ereatuie.     Bhiek  Beauty's' doeihty 
anci  sweetness  of  temper  hecanie  olorified.  ili 
Hhiek  Auster,  into  an  ann-eh'e  and  inerechhle 
loveh'ness  of  disposition.     So  niarveJknislv  di.J 
he  ra(h'ate  o-oodness,  tliat  lie  had  (ndy  to"  look 
at  any  wronodoer  "with  sueh  a  heautifid  ex- 
pression that  they  stopped  at  onee."     He  ])er- 
formed  the  same  useful  funetion  as  the  touean, 
u-ith  its  "loud  sweet  so/i-.'      .Aliehael  had  thus 
early  o-rasped  the  truth  that  the  most  potent 
reformers   m  the  world  are   the  uneonscious 
ones.     In  the  same  way  Blaek  IJeanty's  sa^ra- 
city  was  mao-nified  till  it  reaehed  truly  marvel- 
lous proportions  in  Bkiek  Auster,  and  so  were 
his  physieal  beauty  and  strenoth.     His  hair 
was  like  silk,  his  mane  flowed  almost  to  the 
i?round:  he  shone  ,ol,,i-iously  in  the  sun,  and 
lie  had  oTeat,  soft,  shinin-  -oklen  eyes,  whieh 
exereised  the  i)enefieent  influence  mentioned 
above.     He  was  so  swift  that  he  could  carry 

189 


It 

in 
I   l-'-ii 


THE  (iLORV  AND  THE  DREAM 

voii  awav  off  into  tlic  lumbermen's  region— 
riulit  to  the  verv  edge  of  the  worhl,  so  vdu 
could  sit  on  his  back  and  look  into  the  sky — 
and  home  again  in  a  single  afternoon.  At 
fir^t  he  galloped  over  the  ground  like  an  or- 
dinary horse,  but  as  his  perfections  hicreased 
he  became  so  liglit  on  his  feet  that  he  flew 
through  the  air,  although  he  was  not  a  winged 
Pegasus. 


190 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"monarch  of  all  I  survey" 

Michael  did  not  find  out  just  liow  useful  Mr. 
Jane  Dove  and  Black  Auster  could  be,  till 
afte  •  Christmas.  There  was  such  a  bad  out- 
break of  scarlet  fever  in  town  tiiat  Miehaers 
fatlier  made  uj)  his  mind  he  would  not  go  there 
again,  even  if  he  ran  out  of  such  apparent 
necessaries  as  flour  and  sugar.  Even  Susan's 
father  and  mother  began  to  consider  the  de- 
sirability of  missing  a  few  Sundays  at  church, 
but  they  considered  it  a  little  too  late.  They 
went  for  the  last  time  the  Sunday  before 
Christmas.  On  Xew  Year's  day  Susan  came 
out  as  usual  to  slide  downhill,  but  she  got  tired, 
and  finally  said  she  had  a  headache  and  went 
home.  That  afternoon,  as  ^Michael  was  run- 
ning out  of  the  gat?,  Susan's  father  came  dash- 
ing out  of  the  opposite  gate  in  his  sleigh,  at 

191 


Tin:  (;lohy  and  tite  dri.am 


such  a  speed  ^^liat  he  and  Michael  had  ahiiost 
C()lhdcd  bef(M'e  he  cfMihl  tiii'ii  aside,  '"(iood 
fl'racioiisl"  lie  ejacuhited,  exprcssin.u;  in  this 
briei'  and  innocuous  phrase  his  consternation 
at  havinn-  nearly  let  his  horses'  hoofs  strike 
^lichaers  lieach     Tlicn  he  drew  up  with  a  jerk. 

"Look  hei'c,  vounii-  man,  you're  not  to  set 
i'(K)t  inside  my  i>ate.  Susan's  sick,  and  her 
mother  is  in  a  stcv  I'or  fear  it  may  he  the 
feyer."  IIayin,t>-  ilun^'  this  out  with  saya<;'e 
breyity,  he  lashed  up  his  horses  and  dashed 
downhill,  yery  much  as  if  he  were  in  a  stew 
himself. 

^lichael  did  not  sec  how  he  could  disturb 
Susan  by  ^oinij  inside  the  gate,  but  he  obeyed 
orders,  and  told  Xieder  they  nnist  keep  outside 
Susan's  gate,  because  she  was  sick.  Xieder 
liimself  was  yeiy  dull  this  afternoon,  and  did 
not  slide  downliill  with  anything  like  ^lichacl's 
zest.  ^Vt  last  he  said  he  was  cold,  and  went 
liome,  allhough  Michael  b<;gged  him  to  stay. 
Brian  Mas  still  left  to  ])lay  with,  and  Michael 
made  the  most  of  him.  ])nt  Brian  was  most  un- 
fortunately beginnir.g  i.o  make  other  friends. 

192 


".AJOXAIKII  OF  .VLL  I  SUUVKV' 


Strano-e  doo-s  would  insist  on  lum,nin,<T'  a])oiit 
the  place,  and  he  Mn'U'ed  around  them,  played 
with  them,  soiiielimes  seemed  half  inclined  to 
ti^ht.  hut  always  showed  a  li\ely  enou<^h  in- 
terest to  ene(nn-a;4e  tjiem  to  eome  a^-ain.  Old 
Cohjuhoun  shook  his  head  over  this.  'Ilka 
d().^•  should  he  like  ma  Jessie,  and  lia'e  nae 
friend  hut  his  master,"  he  often  said. 

On  this  i)articular  afternoon  several  of 
Brian's  friends  ai)i)eared  while  Michael  was 
racing-  him  downhill,  and  he  ran  off  at  once 
with  them.  ^Michael  followed,  wlnstlino-,  call- 
ing, hegoinnn  him  to  come  hack  and  play  with 
him  when  he  had  neither  Susan  nor  Xieder,  hut 
JJrian  ti-otted  steadily  on  aloni;-  the  river  road, 
his  ])lump  tail  ai  half-m;ist,  his  ears  pricked 
uj)  alertly,  ahsorption  In  some  urgent  business 
expressed  in  every  line  of  his  hod)  .  ^lichael 
finally  went  home  feclino-  h.nrt  and  sore  and 
cross,  utterly  forsaken  and  deserted.  The  sun 
was  gointr  down,  and  it  seemed  a  ])ig,  cold, 
lonely  woi'ld. 

Xext  mornii.n'  Brian  liad  not  come  ])ack,  and 
Michael's  father  came  in  with  the  news  that 

103 


Tin:  GLORY  AND  THE  DREA:\I 


Susan  was  Miy  sick  with  scarlet  t'cvcr.  and 
lie  niiisl  not  u'o  ()\ei"  tliii'e.  He  \seiit  (lowii  to 
see  XiedtT  al'tei-  hreakl'asl,  iiut  just  as  he  ^;)t 
in  tlu'  ^atc  Xiedef's  mother  appeared  at  the 
(looi\  and  shouted: — "(io  hack!  Go  hack! 
Do  not  come  in  here!" 

'■\Vliyr"  asked  Michael. 

"Xieder  has  the  l*e\er,  and  you  must  not 
come  hei'c." 

I'oi"  a  few  days  Michael  was  a  lonely  crea- 
ture, and  did  not  kno^v  what  to  ilo  with  him- 
seir.  He  I'ollowed  his  lather  ahout  the  house 
and  stahle,  and  went  over  every  dav  to  see  old 
Cohpihoun.  Day  al'tei-  day  passed,  and  Jirian 
(lid  not  come  hack.  The  lonely  feeling-  was 
(Ireadi'ul,  A\as  \\()i'se  than  heinu'  hun<>Tv,  and 
there  was  the  same  sort  of  emptiness  with  it. 
The  only  way  he  eonld  <^c\.  any  relief  was  hy 
stickini4'  close  to  his  father,  or  talking  with 
old  C'ohiuhoun.  J%\ei'y  morning  he  and  his 
father  went  down  to  the  gate,  and  shouted  out 
to  Susan's  fatlier  t(>  know  how  Susan  was,  and 
for  a  great  many  mornings  Susan's  father  re- 
plied savagely  that  she  was  no  hetter. 

194 


'•MOXAIU  11  01"  ALL   I  SIRVEY" 

But  al'tcr  sevci-al  days  of  loiiLliiiess  Micliacl 
remt'inlRTcd  Mr.  Jaiic  Dove  and  lilack  Au^tcr. 
OiiL'  iiioi-iiiii^  liis  I'atlRT  pt.t  I.iiii  on  Fioim's 
hack,  and  kd  lii.,!  Ironi  the  .stal)l(j  to  the  lioiise, 
then  down  to  the  ^ate.  (k)\vn  the  hill,  and  hack 
a'-ain.  Tha'  was  rapture  I'or  Miehael.  He 
loved  horses.  The  very  ,«,niell  of  the  harness 
thrilled  him  with  delight.  To  he  uj)  on  the 
hack  of  one,  to  feel  the  'ireat  hodv  niovin<>' 
under  him,  to  press  the  warm  sides  with  his 
legs,  was  a  taste  of  hliss,  hut  it  was  all  too  hrief 
a  taste.  '"Oh,  I'd  like  to  real'//  ride,  and  do 
it  all  da\'!"  he  cried  as  his  father  lifted  him 
do'vn. 

Just  then  Mv.  Jane  Dove  appeared  on  Black 
^Viister.  'Tm  goiny-  on  a  liuntin<^-  trip  to  tlie 
lumherman  country."  he  said.  "Would  you 
like  to  corned  lilack  Auster's  so  strong,  he 
can  carry  hoth  of  us." 

^lichael  jumped  uj)  at  once  on  lilack  Auster, 
in  front  of  ^Mr.  Jane  Dove,  and  took  the  reins 
in  his  hands.  In  an  histant  Black  Auster  had 
leaped  from  the  ground  and  was  bounding 
through  the  air,  his  great  mane  llowing  s])len- 


1:1 


Tin:  c.LOHv  WD  Tin:  i)rii:A.M 


(lidly  in  t!ic  wIjkI.  Ins  \v;ii-!ii  Ixxly  tlir()l)l)ii)^r 
with  life  l)Lt\vi'(ii  M.'cIuuTs  Ir^s-— and  all  this 
woiKki't'nl  pow  ;•  was  coiiiplttcly  in  his  con- 
li'cl.  It  A\as  the  jH  iTcrtion  of  the  hriul',  ini- 
I)cri'cc't  taste  o!'  hliss  he  had  just  had.  Mi- 
ehaels  fatliei-  wondei'ed  why  he  was  L'alh'pini,^ 
otr  across  tile  lield  without  any  ai)j)arent  pin'- 
pose,  not  knowing'  th;it  he  was  rapidly  leav- 
ing' the  A\!iole  I'aiiiiliar  seeiie  hehind,  and 
enterin^L!,'  the  nnknown  land  the  river  came 
I'l'oni.  rresenlly,  in  the  distance,  they  saw  a 
lion.  It  looked  \ery  hi^'  and  yrand,  and  its 
tawny  hide  was  distinct  on  the  white  snow; 
Michael  IVit  a  wihl  thrill  of  excitement  shoot 
throuL;h  him  I'rom  his  ch.est  to  his  I'eet,  and  Mr. 
Jane  Dove  chinked  liis  sword.  '"AW^'Il  <>et 
that  I'ellow/'  he  said.  "IIa\e  you  yot  your 
n-unr" 

'"Ves."  said  Michael.  "And  Tve  "ot  niv 
sword  too." 

The  lion  roared  just  then.  It  v.as  an  awful 
noise,  hin;u-er  than  the  noise  of  a  train.  Mi- 
chael patted  Hlack  Auster's  neck  to  encoura'i'e 
him  to  be  still  swifter  and  Ijraver  than  he  al- 


IM, 


"MONAIU  If  OF  ALL  I  SIRVKV" 

rca(Iy  was,  ami  wliisjicrcd: — '"Do  your  Itcst,  old 
AusUr." 

lie  liad  ahsorhcd  "Hlack   Hcauty"  into  tlic 
very  marrow  of  Iiis  honi^,  as  lie  had  aI)sorl)fd 
the  "Jiiiiule  JJook,"  and  con,sc(jucnlly  JJlack 
Aiisler  never  felt  tlie  wliip,  i.or  licaid  harsh 
words.     They  were  .soon  within  shootin<^-  dis- 
la.iee  ol'  the  lion.     ^lichael  [)ulled  the  t ringer, 
the  nun  went  off  with  an  awful  hano,  and  the 
lion  roared  ,so  loud  that  everything'  was  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  noise,  and  spran-^-  ri^ht  on 
them.     It  knoeked  ^Miehael  off  on  one  side, 
and  Mr.  Jane  Dove  on  the  other,  hut  lilaek 
Auster  was  so  strono-  that  hy  hraein<,r  himself 
with  all  four  le^s  he  managed  to  stand  iirm,  al- 
thoufrh  the  lion  landed  right  on  top  of  him. 
Mr.  Jane  Dove  and  ^liehael  scramhled  to  their 
feet,  and  eaeh  stnek  a  sword  into  the  lion  just 
as  it  was  preparing  to  o(,hI,le  up  the  hrave 
Hlack  Auster,  who  Avould  rather  he  eaten  than 
desert   his   masters.     Then    they   ])atted    and 
praised  Black  Auster,  and  skinned  the  lion  the 
way  Mowo'li  skinned  Sheer  Khan,  and  rode 
home  triumphantly  with  his  hide. 

197 


Tiir.  (;i.()RV  AM)  Tin:  i)ui:.\m 


Xc'xt  iii()nii!i,L>-  Susan's  I'atlKr.  willi  a  more 
mtiial  couiitciiaiu'i-  than  he  had  worn  I'or  some 
(hi\  s.  MiiiioiiiK'cd  that  Susan  was  a  hltlc  l)cUer. 
'■.Mic-harl.  slie  wanted  lo  know  il'  you  and  Xie- 
der  ha.d  it,"  he  said,  ""and  when  I  told  her  you 
'svcre  alone  in  yoiu'  ulory.  she  said  she  hoped 
you  weren't  awfully  lorn  ly." 

"Tell  her  Tm  not  a  hit  lonely!"  Michael 
shouted  haek,  hene\  <»lently  anxious  to  set  her 
mind  at  rest.  '"Tell  her  Mr.  Jane  Dove  and 
I  killed  a  lion  yesterday." 

Many  were  the  exjjloits  Miehael  and  Mr. 

Jane  Dove  had  in  the  lumherman  country  dur- 

in<'-  the  weeks  that   followed.      Tliev  had  wild 

chases  after  wolves  and  jackals,  in  which  all 

JJlaek  Auster's  swiftness  was  needed,  and  they 

had  fights  with  ti^uers  and  hears,  and  one  day 

Michael  caught  a  wild  horse,  with  which  he  had 

a  (lesi)erate  tussle.     It  tln-ew  him  every  time 

he  tried  to  get  on  its  hack,  and  when  he  tried 

to  hold  it  with  a  ro[)e  it  dragged  him  along  the 

ground,  and  he  had  to  call  Mr.  Jane  Dove  to 

his  assistance,  and  the  two  of  them  together 

could  barely  keep  their  feet  when  it  pranced 

198 


-.MONAIK  H  OI    Al.I.  I   ^lUMA" 

and  kicked  and  striin-nUd  to  ori  away.     They 
could  iuv(.r  lia\c'  iiiaiia^X'd   it  at   all   il'  lilack 
Aiister  had  nut  1)lcii  theiv  to  .sul)diic  it  period- 
ically with  his  i)caiitil'nl  eyes.     Miehael,  how- 
ever, never  ror,t;ot  that   Isind  words  and  i)ats 
(at  the  rare  intervals  when  il  was  still  enou^di 
to  i>at)  would  eon(iuer  in  the  end.     He  named 
this  horse  IIotsl)ur,  and  when  he  not  tired  of 
Hlaek  Ausler's  perfection   (although  he  never 
l)nt  it  that  way.  even  to  himself)   lie  rode  on 
Hotspur,   and   had   wild   stru.uiilcs,   nenerally 
ending  in  a  runaway,  ami  heing  rescued  hy  Mr. 
Jane  Dove  and  Black  Auster.     Then,  when 
he  thought  it  was  his  turn  to  he  the  hero,  he 
gave  :Mr.  Jane  Dove  over  to  Hotspur's  tender 
mercies,  and  he  and  IJlack  xViister  accomphshed 
some  marvellous  rescues.     S  -metimes  the  sit- 
uation was  further  comphcated  hy  the  arrival 
of  a  hear  or  a  tiger  on  the  scene  in  the  midst  of 
a    struggle   witli   Hotspur.     Then   there   was 
o-cneral    heroism.     Miehael    saved    Mr.    Jane 
Dove  and  Black  Auster  from  the  very  jaws 
of  the  wild  heast,  and  Mr.  Jane  Dove  saved 
:Michael  and  Black  Auster,  and  T^lack  Auster 

199 


'I  in:  (.IJ)l[^  and  'I'lii:  diu.a.m 


saved  .Mi(!i;i(l  .nid  Mr.  .Fain'  Dove,  and  tlioy 
all  saved  II()Kj)iir,  and  IIoKixir  tried  his  hcst 
to  kick  and  trample  tluiii  all  at  <»iiee,  and  tlie 
wild  l)east  ti'I((l  liis  Ik  si  to  cat  tiieni  all  one 
al'lei-  tile  oilier:  and  any  tanule  that  could  not 
ifc  sti-ain'Iitened  onl  hy  suoi-ds  and  ,!j,uns  and 
li(  roisni  alwavs  yielded  instantly  to  Hlack 
Anslir's  iieaiilirul  eyes.  Hnt  lilaek  Au.ster 
was  considerate  enonuli  to  refrain  IVoin  usin<r 
his  heantilul  eyes  till  .Micliatl  and  Mr.  Jane 
Dove  had  had  I'uU  scope  Tor  their  herolsni. 
When,  in  addition  to  all  this,  it  is  recordKl  that 
they  went  to  sea  in  the  Iiri(/lif  SlarliiH/  Out, 
and  could  only  hy  constant  uatchrnlness  and 
l)ronipt  action  save  themselves  from  hein,n'  C"- 
gull'ed  in  the  deej),  it  will  he  seen  that  Mi- 
chaeTs  lile  hy  no  means  lacked  excitement  dnr- 
in;_;-  those  wetks  of  solitude,  when  he  tumbled 
around  in  the  snow  in  such  an  utterlv  wild 
and  senseless  manner.  IJut  there  were  (|uiet 
intervals  between  the  adventures — when  the 
sea  was  calm  and  they  could  stand  side  by  side 
at  the  mast  of  their  ship,  or  when  they  were 

200 


I 


"MONAIU  II   ()!'   All.    I    M  UM'.V" 

ridiii^"  <|iii(.tl\  lioiiir  on  I'llack  Austci"  and 
Ilolspur,  ladtii  \\\[\\  liidcs  and  In  ac-stcaks — 
arid  then  tlu-v  had  lon*^-,  dtli.uhU'ul  talks  al»oiil 
every Ihin^;'.  Mr.  Jane  I)(»\e  was  as  i^ood  a 
coni})ani(»n  a-,  lie  was  a  hero.  With  liini,  Mi- 
ehael  diseiissed  all  tlu'  mysteries  ilial  tilled  him 
with  Muh  eniif'sity.  There  was  the  way  you 
n-rcw,  for  inslanee.  He  had  remarked  onee 
het'ore  Susan's  lather  how  woinlcrful  that  was, 
and  he  had  hurst  out  laun'hini;-.  lUd  Mr. 
.Fane  Dove  wondered  over  '.t  with  Miehad,  and 
had  thought  ahout  it  as  often.  'Umi,  he  was 
as  mueh  inlei'ested  in  fairies,  ajid  knew  a  lot 
ahout  them.  He  told  M  iehael  that  the  little 
stars  on  the  snow  were  the  fairies'  old  elolhes 
that  they  liad  thrown  away,  and  this  iiave  Mi- 
chael some  idea  of  the  splendoiu"  of  theii'  aji- 
parel.  lie  tried  hard  to  show  tliem  to  Mi- 
chael, hut  it  was  always  when  Mieliacl  was 
not  around  that  he  saw  them.  Onee  he  ]>ulle(l 
uj)  lilaek  Auster  in  a  hurry  and  said: — 
"I^ook!  Look!  There  is  one  llyinn"  aei'oss  in 
front  of  us!"     But  it  flew  so  fast  that  hy  the 

201 


If 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 

time  :Micliael  looked  it  was  g-one.  That  was 
the  nearest  ^lichael  ever  came  to  seeuig  a 
I'airy. 

Xieder  was  never  very  siek— indeed,  he  got 
off  so  easily  that   the  doctor  denied  him  the 
dignity   of   having   scarlet   fever   at   all,   and 
called  it  scarlatina.     His  careful  mother,  how- 
ever, took  as  many  prcf-autions  as  if  it  had 
been  the  real  thhig,  and  although  he  was  able 
to  run  about  the  house  in  a  few  days,  he  was 
({uarantinetl    for  the  regulation  eight  weeks. 
However,  Michael  could  sta.-d  at  the  gate  and 
wave  to  him,  and  every  night  he  wrote  an 
account    of    his    adventures    with    :Mr.    Jane 
Dove,  usually  illustrated,  tied   it  to  a   httle 
stone,  and  threw  it  as  near  the  window  Xieder 
ai)peared  at  as  it  would  go.     Then  Xicder's 
face  iM-oke  into  a  broad  smile,  and  his  mother 
ran  out  ancl  picked  up  the  note  and  brought 
it  in. 

Week  after  week  passed,  and  Brian  did  not 
come  back.  .Alichael's  father  used  to  stretch 
himself  lazily  after  meals,  and  sayi—^Ach 
aidhc!    If  only  Brian  would  come  back,  and 

202 


"MONARCH  OF  ALL  I  SURVEY" 


I 


pick  up  the  crumbs  for  us!"  Tlic  one  form  of 
liousework  lie  never  could  reconcile  liimsell'  to 
was  swee])ing'.  lie  loved  cookin<^',  and  he 
didn't  mind  mending-,  although  it  was  so  hai'd 
to  make  the  mends  look  r.ice.  hut  the  oidy 
time  Michael  ever  saw  him  cross  was  when  he 
had  to  swee[).  He  loved  to  shock  old  C"ol(iu- 
houn,  who  was  a  scrupulous  sweeper,  hy  cx- 
poundinfif  the  theory  that  as  lon^'  as  yoii  left 
dust  undisturbed  it  did  you  no  harm.  "JJul:, 
mon!  It's  there"  old  C()l({uh()un  would  ex- 
claim, wrinkling  up  his  face  in  horrified  dis- 

o-ust. 

"Well,  what  does  that  matter,  as  long  as  it 
doesn't  do  you  any  harmf"  inquired  ^lichaeTs 
father. 

"Losh!"  exclaimed  old  CoLjuhoun,  breath- 
less with  horror.  "It  does  your  soul  harm  to 
leave  it  there,"  he  added  with  aA^ful  severity. 
'J'hcn  Michael's  father  laughed  like  a  mis- 
chievous boy,  and  old  Colquhoun's  face  wrin- 
kled up  in  spite  of  him. 

At  last,  one  morning  when  Michael  was 
throwing  '  is  account  of  yesterday's  adventures 


ill 


THE  (iLOIlV  AND  THE  DREAM 


to  Xicder,  Brian  and  one  of  liis  friends  came 
runi)in<r  along  tlu:  river  road.  As  soon  as 
Jh'ian  saw  ^lichael  he  ([niclly  separated  from 
the  friend,  and  followed  ^lieliael  home,  to  his 
great  joy.  He  had  I)ecn  away  just  three 
weeks,  Miehael  gathered  from  his  father's  con- 
versations witli  old  Colquhoun. 

It  was  five  weeks  longer  before  the  three 
j)laymates  met  again.  Xieder  \\  ts  allowed 
outd(jors  a  few  days  before  he  was  uiit  of  (juar- 
antine,  and  he  and  ^Michael  could  carry  on  a 
conversation  at  shouting  tlistance.  "Say,  Mi- 
chael, those  ]Mr.  Jane  Dove  stories  were  fine," 
were  his  first  words.  He  liad  ])een  having  a 
dull  and  lonely  enougli  time  to  ])e  glad  of  even 
imaginary  adventures. 

"Y'ou  don't  look  a  ])it  sick,"  rei)lied  Michael. 
"Susan  has  been  awfully  .sick." 

"Vou  migbt  as  well  be  good  and  sick  while 
you're  at  it,"  said  Xieder.  "It's  some  fun 
when  you're  in  bed.  They  made  a  great  fuss 
at  first,  and  gave  me  big  white  candies  for  my 
throat,  and  then  I  got  well,  but  I  had  to 
stav  in  the  house  and  not  i)lav  wiUi  anv  of  mv 

20  i 


"MONARCH  OF  ALL  I  SURVEY" 

fjood  toys  because  I  was  having  scarlatina, 
but  still  I  didn't  bive  anv  more  nice  tliinirs 
than  if  I  was  a  well  person.  It's  mean 
to  have  scarlatina  and  not  be  good  and 
sick." 

This  point  of  view  was  incomprehensible  to 
Michael.  It  was  an  unbearable  humiliation 
to  him  to  be  sick  in  bed,  and  all  the  attendant 
symi)athy  and  petting  could  not  compensate 
for  the  loss  of  liberty. 

Xieder  got  out  of  quarantine  a  day  before 
Susan,  and  the  two  boys  had  a  most  joyful 
time  scuttling  and  racing  and  sliding  downhill, 
and  carrying  on  till  they  were  fairly  helpless 
witli  laughter. 

Susan  and  ^Michael  had  been  eager  to  meet, 
but  when  they  met  they  could  think  of  no  bet- 
ter way  of  celebrating  the  event  than  by  star- 
ing solemnly  at  each  other,  without  saying  a 
word.  At  last  ^Michael  inquired,  in  awe- 
struck tones:— "Did  you  change  your  skin  like 
the  boy  in  town?" 

"Yes,  every  bit  of  it,"  replied  Susan 
proudly. 

205 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


'Vour  legs  arc  awfully  long.  You  look 
like  a  stork." 

"I  grew  an  awful  lot,"  said  Susan,  in  the 
same  proud  tone,  as  if  scarlet  fever  and  all  its 
attendant  circumstances  were  a  wonderful 
achievement.  "I've  outgrown  all  my  dresses. 
^Mother  has  to  go  right  to  work  and  make  new 
ones.  Father  says  I'm  a  guy,  and  lie  can't 
take  me  to  church  till  mother  finishes  the  new 
dresses."  (Susan  g:"-  a  joyful  skip  at  this 
l)oint.)      "Did  Xiedi     ^  ")W  too?" 

"lie  didn't  get  nearly  as  tall  as  you.  lie's 
as  fat  as  a  pig." 

"Was  he  as  sick  as  me?" 

"Xo,  he  wasn't  very  sick.  He  has  heen 
rumiing  around  outside  lately,  but  we  couldn't 
get  at  each  other  till  yesterday.  Y  our  clothes 
smell  so  funny,  Susan." 

"That's  the  disaffection." 

"What  is  disaffection?" 

"It's  the  stutf  that's  i)ut  all  over  everything 
after  you  have  been  sick.  Fatlier  and  motlier 
have  been  putting  it  aD  over  everything  for  a 
week." 

20G 


"MOXARCII  OF  ALL  I  SURVEY" 

.Tu3t  then  Xieder  came  alonf^-,  and  the  three 
started  .sliding'  downhill  as  if  nothinf?  had  ever 
hapi)ened  to  break  their  hai)py  I'ellowship. 


207 


CHAPTER  XV 


BRIAN 


Up  to  this  time,  Brian  Iiad  been  a  joy  and 
pride  both  to  Micliael  and  his  father;  now  he 
beeanie  tlieir  trouble  and  Uieir  torment.  He 
never  stayed  away  I'or  three  weeks  a^aln,  but 
he  went  awav  nearlv  every  ni<>lit,  and  some- 
times  stayed  for  s.e\eral  (hiys.  He  was  well 
scolded  when  lie  came  home;  Michael  had  some 
painful  moments  when  he  came  in  and  lieard 
his  father  sayinir  in  awful  tones: —"Shame  on 
you.  bad,  bad  do<j,!"  and  saw  Brian  crouching 
down,  a  quivering  yellow  mass  of  shame,  and 
knew  he  must  not  say  a  word  to  j)rotect  him, 
because  it  was  too  sadly  true  that  lie  deserved 
reproach.  Tam  kept  pace  \\  ith  Brian  in  mis- 
chief as  in  everything  else,  and  was  often  away 
at  the  same  time.  Thev  were  still  deadlv  ene- 
niies,  and  one  day  when  the  children  v  ere  up 

208 


BRIAN 


at  the  Rc1)er.s  House  tliev  lieard  awl'iil  growls 
and  yelps  in  the  wimhIs.  "It's  Brian  and 
Tani!"  cried  Michael,  and  ilashed  out  into  the 
woods  as  hard  as  he  could  go.  There  was 
deep,  soft  snow,  hut  he  lloundered  through  it 
somehow,  Nieder  alter  him. 

'■()h,  we  must  hurry!  We  must  hurra !"  ^^^ 
cried.  -'They'll  kill  each  other!  Father- 
and  old  Cohpihoun— said  they  would!"' 

The  noises  became  more  and  more  awful, 
and  he  thought  they  would  never  struggle 
through  that  snow  and  get  to  them.  ^Vt  last, 
trembling  and  hot  and  exhausted,  he  came 
upon  the  cf)mbatants.  One  was  on  top,  with 
the  hair  bristling  all  along  his  back  and  neck, 
and  Michael  thought  he  was  actually  eating  the 
other  up.  Mlikli  one  was  it?  He  gave  one 
last  struggle  forward,  caught  the  dog's  tail, 
and,  not  having  strengih  to  tug,  fell  backwards 
into  the  snow.  The  dog  was  forced  to  let  go, 
and  proved  to  be  Brian.  Tam  rolled  over 
feebly,  and  sat  up.  He  was  bleeding  at  the 
neck. 

"Xieder,  you  take  him  to  old  Colquhoun's, 

209 


THE  (.LOHY  AND  THE  DREAM 


and  ri!  l)riiin'  l>riaii  home,"  said  Midiael. 
Ui'iaii.  Idistliii^-  and  ^rowliii;^',  triid  to  .sj)rin<jj 
on  Tani  attain,  and  il  took  all  the  strength  of 
holh  hoys  to  hold  him.  Snsan,  meanwhile,  had 
rnn  home  to  Ikt  father  with  the  news  that 
Hiian  and  Tam  were  lii^htinu;  in  tiie  woods, 
and  that  the  hoys  had  run  off  to  tliein  and  she 
thou^^ht  they  were  ^^oini;-  to  l)e  killed.  lie  had 
said: — ''(lood  nraeions!"'  and  started  off,  and 
now  he  arrived  on  the  seene.  "Well,  this  is  a 
[jretty  mess  I  Michael,  that  dcm-  of  yours  is 
,H'oin_u-  to  u'et  you  into  enouLi'i  trouhle  hefore 
ytiiri'e  (lone  with  him.  He  ouuht  to  he  shot!" 
\Vith  this  soothing-  sjieeeh,  he  reached  down  his 
hand  hctween  the  two  hoys  to  <,n-ah  Brian,  hut 
Michael  struck  it  rou;>hlv  awav.  "Don't  vou 
touch  him  I"  he  cried. 

"Look  here.     I'm  not  fi;o'm<r  to  stand  treat- 
ment like  this,"  said  Susan's  father,  reallv  an- 


urv 


"I'm  sorry  I  struck  you.  iJnt  I  -.ron't  have 
any  one  talk  that  way  ahont  Brian!"  cried 
Michael,  crimson  with  rage  and  exertion. 

210 


BRIAN 


"Wfll,  lie's  (lone  for  that  dog  of  old  Colqii- 
louti  s. 

"Do  you   iiiean   Tain   will   dlcV  cried  Mi- 
chael. 

"Of  course  lie  will.      lie  can't   live  with  a 
wound  like  that  in  his  neck." 

"Take  him   li(jine.      lie  is  not  to  die  here, 
and  we  can't  let  <<o  ol'  IJrian,"  said  Michael. 

"I  have  .something-  else  to  do  than  carry 
home  old  Coh^uhoun's  dyin^'  doys  Tor  him," 
said  Susan's  father.  But  fortunately  his 
deeds  were  more  gracious  than  his  words,  as 
they  coidd  well  afford  to  he.  lie  went  and 
got  old  CoI<iulioun,  and  between  them  they 
bathed  and  banda<'cd  Tam,  and  brought  him 
home.  Susan's  fatlier,  with  his  usual  kindly 
tact,  had  magnified  the  gravity  of  the  situa- 
tion. Tam  was  very  badly  liurt.  but  he  had  a 
good  chance  of  recovery,  and  he  did  recover. 
Old  Colquhoun  nursed  liim  conscientiously, 
but  withojt  emotion,  for  Tam  was  liecomins 
more  b"stasteful  to  him  all  the  time.  "He 
canjia  get  mto  ony  mischief  for  twa  ooks  at 

211 


TIP.:  (iLOHV  AM)  THE  DRKAM 

least,  and  lliaf  is  a  ^jrcat  relief,  sae  dinna  fash 
vourser."  he  ^ai(l  In  MieliaeTs  father,  when  the 
latter  was  expressing'  tiie  iitnmst  (hstress  over 
the  occiirrenee. 

"It  wasn't  Jessie,  anyway,"  said  Mieliael. 
'"\a.      I'uir  anld  Jesuit',  it  is  to  her  ye  should 
nialv'    these    handsome    si)eeehes.     SheMl    no 
leave  Tain's  side,  1  inann  even  hrin.^'  her  her 
meals  tliei-e." 

"Is  that  why  she  didn't  come  over  here  with 
youf  Miehael  in(|uired. 

''Ves.  She  wouldna  visit  onyhody  the  noo.' 
I  open  the  door  and  say: — 'Come,  .Fessie,  will 
ye  no  eome  oot  wi'  me  for  a  walkf  and  she 
looks  at  me  wi"  her  i>rave  e'en,  and  says  as  plain 
as  words:— TIa'e  ye  nae  heart,  that  ye  ean 
speak  o'  sie  thin<^fs:"  '' 

Jn  a  eouple  of  weeks  Tarn  was  as  well  as 
ever,  but  the  hair  never  grew  where  the  wound 
had  been.  There  was  a  long  hare  streak  in 
his  white  shirt  front.  This  was  tlie  one  mark 
])y  whieh  a  stranger  eould  have  told  the  two 
dogs  apart. 

Brian  was  carefully  watched  now,  but  still 

-12 


lie  nrot  away  much  of'tencr  tlian  was  desirable. 
One  iiioniinn-  in  tlie  sprin-''  Sudan's  I'aliRT 
eaine  over  with  his  iiinst  savage  aspect. 
'•Look  liere,"  he  said  to  MiehaeFs  I'atlier,  not 
even  waitinn-  to  say  ;^ood  iiiorninn-,  "this  isn't 
Koin<r  to  (h).  A  pack  of  doos  ^ot  in  aiiion^^ 
my  sheep  last  ni-.ht.  and  ran  them  down,  and 
I'm  goinn-  to  lose  two  in  eonse(iuenee.  That 
dog  of  yours  was  among  tliLin.  It  was  uioon- 
iiglit,  and  J  saw  him." 

'•Are  you  sure  it  was  my  dog?"  inquired  Mi- 
eiiael's  lather.  He  had  no  wisii  to  accuse 
Tam,  hut  he  could  not  helj)  I'celing  it  an  in- 
justice to  Brian  that  they  looked  so  alike  when 
Tam  was  so  much  the  worse  of  the  two,  and 
his  hot  Irish  blood  was  stirred  by  the  tone 
Susan's  father  saw  fit  to  use. 

"  Ves,  I  ni  sure.     I  saw  him,  I  tell  you." 

"Very  well.  I'll  pay  for  your  sheep,"  said 
Michael's  father  shortly. 

''!£  I  were  you,  I'd  shoot  that  dog.  He'll 
land  you  in  trouble  yet,"  said  Susan's  father 
as  he  took  liis  departure. 

"I  am  not  going  to  shoot  my  dog,"  retorted 

213 


Tin:  (iLoiiv  AM)  Tiii:  dhf.am 

^riclKuTs  fjillur,  with  ,t^rciil   disliiictmss  nnd 

decision. 

Wluii  old  Col(niliouii  licard  ol'  lliis  lie  was 
indiniumt.  "It  was  'I'amI"  he  said.  "It  was 
never  your  laddie.  It  was  I  wlia  ;,lu)uld  lia"c 
paid  for  llie  slieep.  Tliat  do--  will  cost  ihc 
dear  \(l.  H'  .Kssie  was  no  sae  loud  o'  liiiii, 
{\\  send  Iiiiii  awa'  lo-iiioi'row." 

lie  deelared  it  was  my  dog,"  said  Mieluiel's 
fatlier. 

"It  WHS  no  your  dog,  and  I'll  uae  myseF  nnd 
tell  liini  sae,"  said  old  C'olinilionii.  He  did  so, 
and  was  advised  to  shoot  his  dog.  A  \d  in 
spite  of  all  he  eould  say,  Susan's  father  clung 
to  Hiq'.  '^lii  tiia!.  i*  was  Hiian. 

"That  mon's  head  canna  hand  inair  than  ane 
thocht  at  a  time,  and  ye  eanna  get  it  oof  wi'  a 
pickaxe,"  old  C'ohiiihoun  hurst  out  to  Mieluiel's 
father  afterwards,  and  Michael  suddenly  hurst 
into  a  wild  slunit  of  laughter,  that  was  jiosi- 
tivcly  denionish  in  its  apjireeiativc  glee.  His 
antagonism  to  Susan's  father  had  increased 
since  the  sheep  episode,  for  since  then  l)rian 
had  been  kept  a  close  i)risoner,  and  this  was 

21  i 


BHI.W 


mere  than  Micluul  could  statid.  He  could 
iM't  hiar  to  sec  llic  l)t  aiititid  ci(  atiii'c  that  lo\cd 
so  to  race  and  roii>[)  and  I'oll  aliout  on  tlic  ^rass, 
siml  ii|»  in  llic  IioHs'  (lay  all.r  dav,  and  oidy 
let  out  ulicn  lie  and  liis  latlicr  \\\  re  l)oth 
ai'onnd,  watcliinif  e\ cry  nio\cnicnt  and  ready 
to  call  him  hacl<  ii'  he  e\en  I.  okcd  toward  the 
I'oad.  One  day  .Miihaels  lather  ti'itd  the  ex- 
periment oi'  chaining'  him  in  the  yai'd.  hut  in 
a  "vd'y  lew  nniiutes  lie  was  I'orcihiy  convinced 
that  the  proud  sj)irit  of  Hrian  Hoi-oimhe  would 
nc\er  hend  to  tliat.  lie  jerked  hackwards, 
.s(juealin_n-  and  struu/^linn-  in  such  a  wild  frenzy 
that  neither  Michael  nor  his  father  (hired  ap- 
j)i'oaeh,  and  when  he  linaily  n(,t  jiis  head 
u\'A  •■•'  the  collar,  ran  down  cellar  and  could 
not  he  coaxed  up  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  It 
was  after  this  episode  that  the  liivst  cold,  awful 
shadow  of  an  ap))roaeliin^  calamity  came  over 
^liehael.  One  day  after  (hnner,  when  Brian 
was  i)ickin^'  up  the  crumhs,  his  father  re- 
marked:— "Michael,  do  you  know  wliat  I 
would  do  with  Bi'ian  if  lie  were  my  dogV 
"Whatr'  asked  Michael 


THE  GLORY  AN'D  THE  DREAM 


"I  Avoukl  find  .some  kind  people  with  a  nice 
pliicc,  where  there  are  no  sheep  around,  and 
where  he  could  be  free  all  the  time,  and  give 
him  to  them." 

"I  won't  ^ive  Brian  to  anybody!"  cried  Mi- 
chael, so  passionately  that  his  father  said 
nothing  more.  But  although  Michael  fought 
fiercely  against  the  idea  of  ever  giving  Brian 
up  for  anyl)ody  or  anything,  although  it  was 
a  calamity  too  black  and  awful  to  be  believed 
hi,  he  knew,  underneath  all  this  rebellion,  that 
it  would  come  to  pass  as  surely  as  the  sun  rose 
and  set,  once  his  father  had  said: — "I  would 
do  it  if  he  were  mv  dog."  lie  had  come  to 
love  Brian  more  passionately,  the  wilder  and 
more  intractable  he  became.  It  was  his  nature 
to  love  whatever  was  wild  and  beautiful  and 
hartl  to  subttue,  and  when  he  found  that  Brian 
could  not  ])ear  the  chain  his  fellow  feeling  was 
stronger  than  ever.  It  was  his  nature,  also, 
to  cling  to  his  friends  with  the  more  defiant 
tenacity  the  deeper  they  sank  into  trouble,  the 
more  they  were  blamed,  and  the  more  ear- 
nestly cooler  headed  people  tried  to  loosen  the 

21G 


BRIAN 


bond.  It  was  liis  nature  to  lly  liotly  and  furi- 
ously  in  the  lace  of  N\li()e\er  altiin[)led  to  in- 
tert'cre  between  him  and  tiie  behjved  object 
(unless,  with  the  utmost  ^'entleness  and  tact, 
his  fatlicr  essayed  the  task),  and  tiie  more 
ti'Oul)lc  and  lie;ii  iache  it  ^ave  liim,  tlie  stronnrcr 
his  love  yrew.  All  these  traiiS  developed  in 
^Michael  during  the  hot,  Uiihai)])y,  anory 
niontliN  when  he  took  his  stand  by  JJrian,  dis- 
graced and  imi)risoncd,  against  the  world. 

Old  C\)l(iuhoun  was  the  only  person  who 
j)Oui-ed  balm  on  his  sore  and  buiiiing  sensi- 
i'ilities  by  persistent  i'aitli  in  Brian's  inno- 
cence. "He  never  did  it,"  he  reiterated.  "He 
may  be  wild,  but  there  ai-e  things  I  could  trust 
him  no  to  do  as  I  could  trust  ma  ain  Jessie. 
lie  never  ran  doon  sheep,  and  he  never  will.'' 

Tam  was  kept  chained  now.  and  took  kindly 
enough  to  it.  He  sat  uj)  for  tidl)its  whenever 
anybody  approached  his  kennel,  and  grew  fat 
and  sleek  and  lazy.  Brian,  too,  sobered  down 
as  the  summer  advanced  and  die  weather  ti'rew 
hot.  He  got  so  (juiet  that  he  could  be  trusted 
out  all  dav,  and  3Iichael  and  his  father  beiian 

217 


THE  GLORV  AND  TIIF.  DREAM 


tf)  enjoy  him  a.Liuiii.     Bat  just  as  they  were 
l)c'f»-iMnir\i>'  to  r()r<4et  all  thuir  troubk-s  in  this 
])erioiI  of  peaee,  they  heoan  a«;ain.     Brian  sud- 
denly took  to  his  old  restless  ways  once  more, 
nithout  any  warniii,L>\,  and  about  the  same  time 
Tarn  tnok  to  brfakin^'  his  ehain.     Then  Su- 
san's  father   started    to   complain   of   harried 
sheep,  and  the  old  miserable  business  of  shut- 
ting up  and  watching'  Brian  had  to  be  \)v<^\m 
once  more.     But  in  spite  of  all  their  eare  he 
kept  breaking-  away,  and  one  morning  Susan's 
father  eamc  oNcr  with  the  news  that  a  sheep 
had  been  killed,  and  Diek  (the  hired  l)oy)  had 
seen  the  dog  do  it,  and  declared  it  was  Brian. 
"Ma  dog  has  been  awa'  for  three  days,"  old 
Cohiuhoun,  who  happened  to  be  there,  broke 
in.     "I  tell  ye  it  was  ma  dog.     IIe\l  stop  at 
naething!" 

"There  is  no  way  of  telling,  except  by  the 
scar,"  said  Michael's  father. 

"The  best  thing  to  do  Avoidd  be  to  shoot  them 
both,"  Susan's  father  rei)lied. 

"One  dog  or  the  other  will  be  disposed  of, 
but  not  both,"  replied  Michael's  father.     "And 

218 


BR  I  AX 

kindly  undorstai  rliis,  once  and  for  all.  I 
am  nol  going-  to  :bli()ot  niv  dog,  lor  \ou  or  anv 
man!" 

"It  beats  nic  how  you  can  be  so  stuck  .m  the 
bi'ute,  JJut  conic  over  now  v.itli  nic,  and  I'll 
ask  Dick,  before  you,  if  the  dog  had  a  scar  on 
the  front  of  his  neck.  Then  von'll  be  satis- 
lied."' 

"As  you  have  informed  nic  at  difi'erent  times 
that  Dick  is  a  scalawag  and  a  fool.  1  can't  be 
expected  to  trust  much  to  liis  evidence,  lUit 
1  suppose  I  shall  have  to  take  it,  such  as  it 
is." 

Dick,  whose  countenance  resembled  that  of 
an  imbecile  mink,  said  he  didn't  know  as 
the  dog  had  a  scar.  AV'ien  (luestioned  more 
closely,  lie  expressed  a  readiness  to  swear  to  it 
that  the  dog  had  no  scar.  So  :Miehaers  father 
paid  for  the  sheep,  and  went  home  sorrowful. 
angry,  and  unconvinced. 

That  afternoon,  as  ^licliael  was  feedin'j-  a 
l)rood  of  chickens,  his  father  came  and  stood 
over  them,  looking  rK)wn  at  them  absently  and 
very  gravely.     ".Michael,  IIilic  is  no  help  for 

219 


THE  GT      .Y  AND  TlIi:  DKEAM 


il — when  lirian  comes  back  he  will  have  to  he 
sent  away,"  lie  said. 

Micliael's  grief  was  deep  ai\(l  l)itler.  Wlien 
he  saw  Susan's  father  coming  over  that  eve- 
ning, he  stood  and  ghircd  at  him  witliout  speak- 
ing, and  would  not  go  in  while  he  was  there. 
But  he  heard  something,  through  the  open  door. 
that  gave  the  fhial  edge  to  his  resentment. 
"If  he  feels  so  cut  up  about  it  as  all  that,  why 
not  say  you're  just  lending  Brian,  and  let  him 
think  he  will  get  him  hack  some  day?  It'll 
wear  olf"  after  awhile,  and  he  Mill  forget  all 
about  the  brute." 

^lichael  ran  down  to  the  ])arn,  even  his  sor- 
row temporarily  swallowed  up  in  rage.  '  lie 
thinks  I'm  a  boy  to  be  iicd  to!"  he  broke  out 
to  31r.  Jane  Dove,  stamping  his  foot  on  the 
floor  and  clenching  his  hands.  "lie  thinks  Til 
forget  Brian!  Ill  lUTcr  forget  him!"  He 
suddenly  broke  out  into  passionate  sobs. 

"You  can  have  Black  Auster  whenever  you 

want  to  go  and  see  him,"  said  31r.  Jane  Dove. 

"But  it  wouldn't  be  rcaliu  seeing  him!     He 

might  be  dead  while  1  was  playing  1  was  see- 

220 


BRIAN' 

iM,u-  liim  1"  This  was  [he  first  time  iman-ination 
had  c\cr  i'ailcd  lo  console.  It  uas  a  small,  hut 
s:K"ififant  incident  in  .Mieliacrs  dcveloimicnt, 
and  showed  that  all  this  pain  and  passion  was 
•sweepinn-  hii„,  slowly  l)ut  surely,  out  iVom  "the 
glory  and  the  dream"  of  childhood,  into  the 
merciless  realities  of  yrown-up  lij'e. 

"T  wish  I  was  hig  enough  to  knock  Susan's 
father  down!"  he  hrokc  out  presently.  "I'm 
going  to  have  it  out  Avitli  him  as  s(n,n  as  Vm 
big,  if  he  isn't  too  old  then." 

Per]iai)s  the  method  Susan's  father  adopted 
of  being  conciliating  was  jio  more  graceful  than 
his  manner  of  being  aggressive,  but  he  reallv 
meant  well  to-night.     He  saw  3Iiehael's  father 
iiad    been    ruflled,    and    as    he    liked   liim,    he 
thought   he   would   ti-y   now   to   "smooth   him 
down."     He  had  a  cousin  who  lived  in  a  town 
a  great  many  miles  away,  with  \vhom  he  was 
plainly  not  on  the  friendliest  terms,  and  he  im- 
I>Iied  that  it  would  give  him  great  satisfaction 
to  be  the  Hieans  of  getting  this  cousin  saddled 
with  Erian.     This  was  his  method  of  smooth- 
ing Michael's  father  down.     lie  described  tlie 

221 


THE  (iLOHY  AND  THE  DREAM 

cousin  as  "a  shii'llcss  milksop,"  but  said  lu  was 
foiul  of  animals  and  would  l)e  ^ood  to  the 
Iji-ute,  liis  t(Mic  implyiiii;  tlial  tliis  weakness 
stamjx'd  his  cousin's  order  ol'  ir.'cUcct.  I'^e 
finally  got  the  authority  of  Michacrs  father 
to  wrile  to  him  and  arrange  al)ont  Brian. 

So  Brian  was  sent  off  a  Aveek  later.  lie  had 
to  he  put  in  a  harness  with  a  chain  fastened  to 
it,  and  it  was  dreadful  to  Michael  to  see  him 
so  for  the  last  time.  They  had  a  long,  sad 
drive  to  town.  Mieliael  cared  for  nothing  he 
saw  or  heard  along  the  wild,  alluring  road,  for 
he  was  sitting  in  tlie  hack  of  the  waggon,  with 
his  arms  around  Brian's  neck  (he  would  not 
hold  him  hy  the  cliain) .  At  the  station  a  man 
came  up  and  remarked  what  a  fine  collie  they 
had  there,  and  .Mieliael  was  choked  with  tears 
as  he  rememhered  h.ow  ])roud  and  joyful  that 
woukl  have  made  him  in  the  old  luippy  days 
that  were  all  over  now.  Then  the  train  came 
in,  and  Brian  was  led  into  the  dark  haggage 
car  and  chained  there. 

They  drove  hack  at  dusk  into  their  own  yard, 
where  no  heautiful  Brian  would  ever  bound 


BRIAN 

over  the  .urass  a,u:iiii.  ]^\eniliiiio-  ^as  eoni- 
fortless  and  lonely  and  silent.  The  tears  ran 
down  Miehael's  ehceks  as  he  tried  to  choke 
down  his  lea,  wiih  no  P>iian  waiting-  to  pick 
up  the  ernnihs.  There  was  an  intolerable  still- 
ness and  em})tiness  everywhere  he  had  been 
used  to  see  the  heloved  yellow  t'orni,  with  its 
white  ruil',  alert  ears  and  lovely  waving-  tail. 


22.3 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CLEARED 

^MrcHAEL  aju]  liis  rather  ])assc{l  two  lonely, 
f\c'iillcss  A\cc'ks  al'tLT  that.  Mit'liavl  never 
went  over  to  old  C'ol(|ulioinr.s,  for  he  could  not 
bear  to  see  Tani.  The  latter  still  continued 
to  break  his  chain.  One  ai'lernoon,  Susan's 
fatlicr  and  Dick  wei'c  ])ieki  i^'  uj)  aj)j)les  near 
the  sheep  pasture,  when  they  heard  the  ter- 
rified l;lealin^"  that  meant  do_i;'S.  "Good  L>-i-a- 
cious!"  said  Susan's  father,  and  started  for  the 
pasture  on  the  run,  Dick  after  him.  They  Li'ot 
there  just  in  time  to  see  Tarn  kill  a  sheep,  with 
tlic  dexterity  of  an  old  hand. 

"That's  the  dog  I  saw  that  evening  before," 
said  Dick. 

""What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Susan's 
fatlier.     "You  told  me  that  dog  had  no  scar." 

"Oh,  ves,  it  had." 

•J24, 


CLEARED 

"Wliat    (lid    yon    nuaii    hv    tclliim'    micIi    a 


. /' 


lie 

"Please,  sir,  I  tlioiio-hl  yon  wanted  me  to 
say  it  hadn't  no  sear,"'  erin^ed  Diek. 

"You  younn'  idiot,  1  wanted  you  to  tell  the 
truth,  and  if  1  eateh  you  at  such  a  lie  ai^aiii 
I'll  tire  you." 

Susan's  father  marched  sti-aight  over  to  .see 
^Mieha.-l's  father,  and  tell  him  what  had  hap- 
pened. "Xow,  if  vou  want  that  doff  of  vours 
hack,  I've  no  douht  my  eousin  will  take  old 
Col(juhoun's  instead  of  him,"  he  said. 

Meanw  hile  Miehael  Mas  wanderinn-  forlornly 
ahout  the  yard,  witli  no  heart  to  join  his  play- 
mates in  the  Kehel's  House,  oi-  even  to  summon 
that  other  playmate  who  never  had  been  nen-- 
leeted  before.  There  had  been  no  huntino- 
trips  to  the  lumberman  country  since  Brian's 
dej)arturc.  There  had  been  several  passionate 
conversations  with  :\Ir.  Jane  Dove,  and  the  lat- 
ter had  vowed  vengeance  on  Susan's  father; 
but  .Michael's  eyes  suddenly  became  oj)ened 
wide  to  the  unsatisfactory  nature  of  imaginary 
vengeance  on  a  very  tangible  foe.     :Mr.  Jane 

225 


THE  (JLORY  AND  Till:  l)Ri:.\M 


Dove's  woiidci  I'lil  .sword  was  powerless  to  deal 
willi  a  situation  that  demanded  a  pair  of  power- 
ful juiinaii  lists:  and  it  would  be  many  years 
before  llie  lists  would  be  bi<^-  and  powerful 
cnoui"]!  to  deal  with  it. 

As  Miebael  was  wanderinf]^  aliout  the  yard, 
hot  and  sore  anil  lonely,  he  heard  a  dog  ^i^alloj)- 
ing  and  panting  behind  him.  lie  turnnl 
round,  startled  and  bewildereo,  :i!id  in  another 
moment  the  dog-  had  sprung  upon  him  with 
sueh  foree  that  ho  was  Imocked  o\er  on  his 
back,  and  the  animal  stood  over  him  licking  his 
face.  lie  managed  to  scramble  to  his  feet,  and 
force  the  dog  to  stand  back  to  be  scrutinized. 
"Brian!"  he  cried,  and  then  the  boy  and  dog 
rolled  over  and  over  on  the  grass,  kissing  and 
embracing  and  crying  over  one  another. 

"Father  will  never  send  you  away  again 
after  this!"  he  kep^  assuring  Brian  and  him- 
self. 

Brian  was  a  sadly  altered  dog.  The  luirness 
tliut  had  fitted  liini  v.lien  h.e  v.cnt  away  v.-as 
still  on.  hut  he  was  so  thin  that  it  Innig  loose 
and  rattled  with  everv  movement.     Tlie  ^vhite 


'2'2{\ 


CLEARl.n 


sliii'l  iVoiit  limi^-  in  urcy  ropes  of  iiiiid,  liis  coal 
was  a  iii.i^s  of  hiMTs.  and  all  alon;^  his  iiai'k 
coarse  iilack  luiirs  liad  ui'own.  "Was  it  l)ccausc 
yon  t'clt  so  lilack  inside  tliat  those  iiairs  nrew 
on  }()n^"  .Michael  had  asked  liini.  and  indeed 
this  was  the  only  c\])lanatiun  that  was  ever 
i'onnd  for  thcin. 

^Vftcr  lu;  and  Mii'hacl  had  sjjcnt  ahont 
twenty  niiniites  making'  a  fuss  over  each  other, 
he  went  to  the  hens'  pa!i  and  took  a  lon^-,  jono- 
(liink;  then  Michael,  thinking"  from  his  terrihlc 
thinness  that  he  had  not  had  a  hite  to  eat  since 
he  Went  away,  stai'ted  to  the  Iiouse  to  ,u'et  liim 
s()niethin,<4',  l)iit  suddenly  reineuii)ered  that  Su- 
san's fatlier  was  tliere.  Whatever  happened, 
he  must  not  know  that  Brian  had  come  back. 
He  would  say  the  do^'  ou.nht  to  be  shot,  and 
force  his  falhei'  to  send  him  away  a^iain.  There 
was  a  wikl,  delicious  excitement  in  the  thought 
of  biding  him  from  Susan's  I'atlier.  It  was  Hke 
a  story,  which  woukbi't  be  over  soon,  eitlier. 
It  wonkl  lune  to  be  kept  up  all  his  life.  Mi- 
chael laughed  gleefully  under  his  breath  as  he 
thought  of  the  great  times  they  would  have 

227 


THE  GLORV  AND  THE  DREAM 

kccj)Iiio-  tliiir  secret.  Tlicvc  woul'l  be  all  the 
t'xliilaration  ol'  waiiare  al)()iil  it,  SiisaiTs  I'atlur 
beiii^-  siic-li  a  (kadly  ciuniy.  It  would  lie  soiiic- 
tliiiii^-  like  liavinn-  a  patriot  for  a  iViciul  atul  liid- 
iii;^-  him  rr(»ii)  a  Saesaiiaeii  polieeiuan.  As  \\v 
neared  the  house  he  heard  the  rouuli,  jerky 
tones  that  sounded  so  sava^i^e  and  hloodlhii-sty 
to  his  exeiled  aod  hostile  imagination.  l\v 
erei)t  down  the  cellar  stei)s,  sayin<^^  lo  himscit' 
triumphantly  tliat  his  feet  on  the  stones  didn't 
mai<e  the  least  hit  of  noise,  and  neither  did 
JJrian's,  as  he  followed.  He  lifted  the  latch 
of  the  door  with  the  >  inost  care,  and  pushed 
it  open  so  cautiously  tliat  it  harely  creaked — 
it  "just  whispered  a  creak,"  and  Susan's  father 
was  lau^hin^-  just  then  in  his  "horrid  sava<>e 
way,"  and  couldn't  possibly  hear  the  sound. 
He  didn't  attem|)t  to  shut  it  a^^aii:.  but  stf)le 
in.  ]?rian's  harness  rattled,  and  had  to  be  held 
so  it  wouldn't.  He  ci'ept  over  to  the  milk 
shelf.  Just  then  Mr.  Jane  Dove  appeared, 
and  opened  his  mouth  to  exclaim  at  the  si^ht 
of  Brian,  but  Michael  lifted  a  warninsj^  hand, 
and  pointed  to  tiie  floor. 

•J  2  8 


CLEAR  1.1) 

"TTc  f^ot  hack,  hilt  \vf  must  lucp  //////  from 
knoNv  iii;^',"  lie  wiiisjxTL'd. 

Mr.  .laiic  I)(i\c  iKxhUd  ciilire  compi'cht'ii- 
sidu,  and  put  his  hand  on  his  sword  in  a  grimly 
.su<4)4estive  maniiLr.  "I  I'  hf  ever  ^cts  at  Hiian, 
he'll  lind  out  .suniethin;^-  ahout  this,"  he  whis- 
pered. 

"Vcs,"  said  .Michael  thounht fully.  "l?ut 
you  couldn't  rcaUy  save  him." 

Mr.  Jane  Dove  accejjted  this  snuh  meekly, 
altliou/^h  he  mii^lit  well  have  been  surprised. 
"Really"  was  a  startling'  inn()\"ati()n  in  Mi- 
ehacTs  vocahularv. 

.Just  Ihcn  Michael's  I'Ve  fell  on  half  a  tonmie 
that  stood  on  the  end  of  the  row  of  milk  pans. 
Xieder's  mother  had  hi-ought  it  over  a  few' 
nights  l)efore,  and  h.is  father  had  heen  very 
much  pleased. 

"1  wonder  if  father  would  mind  if  I  rjave 
him  this,"  he  whispered  to  Mr.  Jane  Uove. 
"It's  the  only  thinn-  1  ean  net  for  him,  exce^jt 
milk,  while  lie's  in  the  house." 

Just  then  IJrian  sat  up  for  it,  lf)okinfj 
hunoTier  than  Michael  had  ever  felt  in  his  life. 

229 


THE  GLORY  A\D  THE  DREA:\I 


"I'm  sure  your  fatlicr  would  i^iv  it  to  him 
if  lie  knew  he  had  come  back  about  a  luuuh'cd 
miles,  and  hadn't  had  a  bite  to  eat  all  the  time," 
re})lied  ]Mr.  Jane  Dove. 

So  the  tongue  was  fed  to  Brian,  who  oYj])l)le(l 
it  ravenously,  and  then  Michael  stole  out,  iiold- 
ing  the  sm  .llest  pan  of  milk  a<,rainst  himself 
with  one  hand,  and  Brian's  harness  M'ith  the 
other.  When  he  got  to  the  head  of  the  cellar 
steps  Brian  stood  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  began 
to  drink  out  of  t!ie  pan  as  he  held  it,  so  he  set 
it  do\\ii,  although  he  had  meant  to  carry  it  to 
the  safe  seclusion  of  the  stable.  As  soon  as 
Brian  was  done  drinking  he  tried  to  bring  him 
there,  but  the  dog  flopjjcd  dow?i  on  the  ground 
and  would  not  stir,  althougii  .Michael  stroked 
his  head,  ''to  thaw  him  out,"  as  he  used  to  do 
when  he  wanted  to  make  him  follow  anywhere. 
But  he  was  utterly  exhausted,  and  fell  sound 
asleep,  where  Susan's  father  could  not  fail  to 
see  him  as  soon  as  he  came  out.  Michael  was 
in  wretchedness  for  a  few  minutes:  then  he 
went  to  the  woodjjile  and  got  a  I)ig  l)ox.  and 
dragged  it  over  and  j)ut  it  between  Brian  and 

230 


CLEARED 

tlie  door.     Then  he  settled  happily  down  on 
tlie  grass,  and  tried  to  take  off  tlie  harness. 
The    huckles    were    stiff    with    rust,    and    he 
luid  to   eut   it   witli  his   penknife.     Then   he 
benan   takino-  out   the  burrs.     His  very  tail 
(that  beautiful,  plumy  tail)  was  matted  with 
them.     He  did  not  look  the  least  bit  hkc  ^11- 
chael's  Brian,  but  Miehael  did  not  care,  so  long 
as  he  had  him  safe.     He  was  full  of  peace  and 
contentment  as  he  sat  there  in  the  warm  after- 
noon sun,  gently  and  patiently  taking  out  the 
burrs.     :\Ir.  Jane  Dove  sat  on  the  box  and 
talked.     "The  best  thing  for  you  and  your 
father  to  do,"  he  said,  "would  be  to  build  a 
great,  high  tower,  with  no  doors  or  windows  in 
it,  and  a  way  of  getting  in  underground  that 
no  one  could  know  about.     The  roof  could  be 
flat,  and  he  could  run  round  i-n  there  all  day, 
and  come  down  into  the  other  part  at  night. 
Of  course  there  would  have  to  be  a  high  fence 
round  the  roof,  so  that  lie  couhhTt  see  Brian. 
Then  o.i  Sundays,  when  he  is  at  church,  you 
could  bring  him  down  and  give  him  a  beautiful 
time  all  day." 

281 


TIIK  GLORY  AND  THE  DREAM 


Tlicv  Iiiul  hecn  there  a  lonu-  tiinc,  laviu"- 
plans  of  coiicealiiic'iit,  wiicii  "iic"  came  out. 
iMichael  crouched  down  behind  the  hox.  Im-. 
his  father  l)e<4-an  to  say  soniethin,i>\  an(i  in  an 
instant  IJrian  awoke,  [>neked  up  his  cars,  and 
had  hounded  over  the  hox  heforc  th.e  horrified 
^Michael  could  stoj)  h.ini.  He  stood  up  on  iiis 
hind  legs  and  a-jtually  put  his  arms  around  Mi- 
chael's father's  neck,  while  Michael,  with  set, 
deliant  jaw  and  tieiy  eyes,  s(|uared  up  to  Su- 
san's father.  "I  wasn't  •i'oinn^  to  let  you  know 
he  was  back.  I  was  trying  to  hide  him."  he 
said.  ''JUit  now  you've  seen  him.  1  don't  care 
what  you  sav,  or  what  vou  do,  I'm  not  iioiuir 
to  let  you  make  my  father  send  him  away 
again." 

"It  was  all  a  mistake,  Mike."  said  Susan's 
father.  "But  good  gracious,  how  did  he  ever 
ge^  back?" 

"He's  just  sk]n  and  bone,"  said  Michael's 
father,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  "Oh,  IJrian.  if 
you  had  killed  all  the  sheep  in  the  country,  I 
could  never  send  you  away  again!" 

"I  knew  you  wouldn't!"  cried  ^lichael. 

232 


CLEARED 


"(iimnic  your  paw,  JJrian.  I  \)Cg  your  par- 
don i'or  accusing  you  oi'  that  dirty  trick,"  said 
Susan's  father. 

But  Brian  was  too  mucli  absorbed  in  liis 
master  to  pay  any  attention  to  ai)ologies  from 
Susan's  father,  so  the  hitter  turned  to  Michael, 
hohhng  out  liis  hand.  "Look  here,  Mike,  1 
hope  it's  all  right  now,"  he  said. 

'"Did  you  tind  out  he  dichi't  do  iiT'  asked 
Michael. 

"Yes,  I  saw  tliat  other  one  at  it  with  my 
own  eyes,  and  Uiek  was  fool  enough  to  own  up 
that  he  lied." 

"I  knew  he  did.  Susan  never  beheves  any- 
thing he  says." 

"Too  bad  Brian  had  a  trip  for  nothing. 
However,  he's  seen  the  Morld  now,  and  can 
talk  big  to  his  friends.  Say,  ]Mike,  is  it  all 
right,  and  shall  we  let  bygones  be  bygones?" 

"Yes,"  said  ^Michael,  beaming  as  he  had 
never  beamed  on  Susan's  father  before.  He 
was  so  hap})y  that  he  felt  at  charity  with  the 
whole  world. 

"I'll  go  over  to  old  Colquhoun's  now,  and 

233 


THE  GLORY  AND  THE  DREA.AI 

settle  about  liis  do^-;  I'm  sure  my  eousin  would 
rather  lia\e  Iiim,  scar  iiwd  all,  than  the  sort  of 
scarecrow  youis  is  now."' 

"We're  .i^'oino-  to  o-ive  him  lots  to  eat,  and 
take  out  all  those  Ijurrs,  and  he  Mill  <i;et  just 
as  beautiful  as  ever  auain,"  retorted  Michael 
hotly.  "^Vol^t  he,  Fatlierr'  he  added  anx- 
iously, when  Susan's  lather  was  out  of  liear- 
ino-. 

"I  hope  so.  IJut  he  is  sadly  run  down,  and 
it  will  take  a  lonu'  time  to  i^et  him  back  to  what 
he  was.  To  think  of  what  he  must  have  suf- 
I'ered,  and  all  because  of  that  little  dmaddn! 
I'd  like  to  have  the  thrashing  of  him.  How- 
ever, it's  over,  and  Susan's  father  is  really 
sorry  about  it — s(^  rememi)er,  Michael,  we  must 
let  by<4'oius  be  byn-ones." 

Brian  had  his  old  jjlace  ujider  the  tea-table 
that  nii^'ht,  and  vras  fed  with  the  clioicest  mor- 
sels from  both  plates  '.vithout  bein<4'  ^iven  the 
trouble  of  sitting  up  for  them,  and  after  tea 
he  picked  up  the  crumbs  in  his  old  dainty  way. 
Micliael  and  his  father  had  just  settled  down 
on  the  doorstep,  with  him  between  them,  and 

234i 


CLEARED 


hcgun  on  tlic  l)urrs  an-ain,  wlicn  old  Colqulioun 
and  Jessie  eanie  over.  JJrian  sprang  up  and 
made  a  great  fuss  over  tliein  both;  old  Col- 
qulioun responded  wai'ndy,  but,  to  Miehael's 
great  surprise,  Jessie  did  not.  She  only  en- 
dured tlif  caresses  Avitli  patient  dignity,  and 
settled  down  in  her  usual  still,  statelv  way  bv 
her  master's  side. 

"Surely  she  hasn't  forgotten  Brian i"'  said 
Michael. 

"Xa,  na.  But  she's  getting  too  auld  to  care. 
I'm  thinkin'  she'll  no  miss  Tarn  as  slie  would 
ha'e  done  a  few  ooks  ago.  Weel,  I'm  glad 
Brian's  cleared.  I  kenned  he  was  innocent. 
Puir,  leal  auld  laddie,  A\hcn  I  he.ird  what  he'd 
done  the  tears  ran  oot  o'  ma  e'en,  and  I  h.a'e 
nae  doot  that  auld  bletherskate  ca's  me  the  noo 
by  his  favourite  pet  name  for  Dick." 

"I  suppose  you're  glad  to  get  rid  of  Tarn," 
said  Michael's  father. 

"I  could  dance  wi'  joy  if  I  wasna  ower  auld," 
replied  Cohiuhoun. 

"But  j)erhaps  he  will  come  back  in  the  same 
touching  manner,"  said  ^lichael's  father. 

23j 


THE  CLOllV  AND  TIIi:  DUl'.AM 

"Ciitch  liini!  IK'U  l^:  ic  wliorcvcr  there's 
^niid  fariri'  and  a  satt  !;cil.  I  caiuia  led  tluit 
lie's  Jessie's  aiii  lle^ii  and  Idnid." 

That  ni<Alit  Urian  would  sleej)  tiowhere  hut 
on  the  tloor  heside  ^liehael's  hed,  and  as  it  v.as 
understood  between   ^liehael   and   lii^    Talher 
that  he  was  to  h.ave  everylhinn-  he  wanted,  and 
do  exaelly  as  lie  [)lease(l,  at  least  till  lie  got 
some  llesh  on  his  hones  and  reeovered  enough 
spirit  to  be  nauglity  sonietinx  s,  lie  did  n(jt  ex- 
perienee  nineh  ditru  ully  in  canying-  out  this 
wish.     Miehael's    i'atlier,    nuieh    as    he    hated 
sweeping,  brought   in  a  ger.erous  annl'ul  of 
straw  for  liini  to  lie  on,  and  lust  tiling  before 
going   U)   sleep   Aliehael   put   down  his  hand 
and  felt  for  him,  and  Brian  pul  up  I'S  mouth 
and  kissed  it.     Then  t1ie>-  fell  asleep,  tlie  most 
thoroughly  hajipy  and  eontented  boy  and  dog 
on  the  riverside. 


230 


CIIAl^TEll  XVII 

"the  sense  or  teaks  ix  -moktal  things" 

Xext  morning  Brian,  luiving  devoted  several 
hours  of  the  nii^lit  to  his  sadly  nc;4'leeted  person, 
vras  a  much  more  eheerl'ul  speetacle.  Tlie 
burrs  were  nearly  all  gone,  and  so  was  the  mud 
(some  of  it  liad  been  shaken  over  Miehael's 
eounterjnme).  The  fhiify  yellow  hair  and 
Avhile  shirt  front  tlmt  had  been  ^liehael's  i)ride 
were  recoverhig  some  of  th.eir  lo,>^t  loveliness. 
Tie  was  unwilling  to  he  separated  a  moment 
from  either  of  his  masters,  hut  when  he  had  to 
ehoose  between  them  lie  ehose  Michael.  The 
latter  was  sitting  on  th.e  doorstep  petting  him 
after  breakfast,  when  something  bright  at  his 
feet  caught  his  attention.  It  proved  to  be 
what  he  called  "a  silver  beautv— "  a  fiftv  cent 
piece. 

"Maiscadh!"  exclaimed  his  father  when  he 
saw  it.     "That  must  have  leaked  out  of  old 

237 


THE  GLOllV  AND  THE  DliEAM 


Colqulioun's  pocket.  Talk  about  tlirit'ty 
Scotchmen!  Wc  Irislinicn  could  do  no  worse 
than  that.  It's  a  pity  he  is  not  as  particular 
about  holes  in  his  pockets  as  he  is  aljout  dust 
in  his  house,  liun  ri-^Iil  over  with  it,  Michael, 
or  he  will  be  gone  with  Tani." 

"Brian  will  follow  me,"  said  ^lichael. 
"I'll  keep  him,"  saiil  his  father. 
3Iichacl  started  off  running  and  jumping, 
happy  and  gay  and  eager  to  tell  old  Cokiuhoun 
that   Brian    was    begimiing   to   get   beautiful 
aj-ain.     lie  burst   icvfullv  into  the  luuiber- 
man's  song  as  he  came  in  the  gate.     Okl  Col- 
quhoun  was  sitting  out  in  front,  in  a  little  rustic 
chair  he  had  made  out  of  the  stump  of  a  tree. 
He  was  bent  over  with  his  head  on  his  hand, 
but  when  he  heard  ]Michael  singing  he  came 
(piickly  down   the   path   towards   him.     '"Oh, 
laddie,  I'm  glad  o'  ye,"  he  said  in  a  cpiecr 
choked  voice.     ]Michacl  looked  up  into  his  face, 
and  saw,  to  his  great  surprise,  that  he  was  cry- 


ing. 


"Old  Colquhoun— wliat  is  the  matter?"  he 
asked. 

238 


TKAllS  L\  MOIITAL  THINGS 


"It's  jiii^t  iiKi  aiilil  lassie.  She  had  to  ^-ac 
— .sometime." 

■'Do  \ou  me;iii  that  Jessie — Jessie — "  ^li- 
ehael  eould  not  sav  the  nulv  ^vol•d  that  was  in 
his  mind.  Surclv,  .>invlv  lujtliinii'  so  (h'eadful 
eoidd  have  hajjjjenetl  as  I'or  Col(|uhoun  lo  he 
without  his  ohl  doLi'. 

"Slie'.s  ilei(h"  ColquhoiHi  said  it  as  if  It  liurt 
him  so  miieli  that  lie  eould  not  say  anything 
more. 

^Michael  stood  still  in  front  of  him,  un- 
ahle  to  say  a  word.  lie  had  oidy  felt  his  own 
joys  and  sorrows  hitlierto;  no^\  he  felt  old  C'ol- 
qulioun's  grief  in  his  own  heart,  and  he  felt 
sorrier  than  lie  had  ever  heen  al)ont  anything 
else  in  his  life  ])efore,  even  Brian.  It  liurt 
and  hurt,  like  the  night  his  father  read  out  to 
liim  ahout  Iilaek  Beauty  seeing  a  dead  horse 
drawn  i)ast  in  a  eart,  and  lioping  it  was  Ginger; 
but  it  liurt  worse  than  that.  lie  eould  not 
hear  that  old  Colquhoun  shovdd  feel  as  he  had 
felt  about  Biian,  only  so  nuieh  worse,  beeause 
Jessie  could  never  come  back.  He  wanted  so 
badlv  to  do  something  to  comfort  him,  and  vet 

•239 


Tin:  (;m)HV  and  tiii:  dkkam 


lie  could  not  tliinic  of  Miiylliiiig — he  could  not 
even  Ihiiik  of  anylliin<4,"  lo  say. 

"She  deed  easily,"  old  C'ol(]iihoiin  went  on 
after  a  lon'4'  liiiie.  "1  maun  lie  tliankt'u'  i'or 
thai.  Alter  we  earn'  lianic  last  nieht,  she 
cam"  in  \'.i'  me  as  slic  always  docs,"  (MichaeTs 
eyes  filled  with  tears  at  the  uneonsf-ious  n^e  of 
tlie  present  tense)  "i)ut  when  I  spread  her  hed 
in  the  kitchen  she  wouldna  lie  doon.  She  went 
to  the  door,  and  stood  lookin,u  at  mc  to  let  her 
oot.  I  o[)ened  it,  ;  nd  she  kissed  nia  hand,  and 
^■a\e  me  a?ie  last  look.  I  canna  forget  it — 
tli(  se  e'en  o'  hers — I  never  saw  sic  a  look  in 
tlie  e'en  o'  oiiy  heast.  1  weiit  to  llie  door  and 
ea'd  lier  after  a  wee.  She  didna  come.  I 
went  oot  and  looked  ui'  the  lantern,  and  slie 
was  lyin^;'  a'ma.ist  at  the  door.  If  slie  had 
made  a  sound,  1  would  Iki'c  heard  her.  She 
deed  easily,  thei'e's  nae  doot." 

"I  think  she  had  a  soul,"  said  ^Michael. 
"Don't  you  rememher  telling-  me  a])out  the 
time  she  found  a  youn^-  hird  tliat  ha.d  dr()])ped 
out  of  tlic  nest,  and  how  she  sto(xl  and  took 
care  of  it  till  you  came?     If  slu  hadn't  had  a 

'2i0 


TEARS  I\  :',I')H'r.\l.  THINGS 


soul,  slie  would  liavc  calcu  it.      P(  rliaps  she's 
ruuuini;'  round  iu  Ilta\fu  now.  ' 

"Na,"  said  old  C'dlqnliouu.  ''Sle'll  no  be 
rinuin'  round.  Shell  lie  siilinn'  still  as  a  stone, 
no  lii»])Chin,!4  to  onvthini;',  no  looking'  to  aue  side 
ov  the  itlier — watchiu;^',  watehin^^-  j'or  her 
uiasti-r.  wi'  those  !'i'a\e  e'en,  that  wei-e  sae  kind 
and  eannv — "  old  Cohiuhouu  was  (jvereoiue  hv 
his  tears  for  a  few  minutes.  "I  maun  diu;  her 
^■i-a\e,"  he  said  a.t  last. 

jl ieliael  followed  him  silently,  and  silently 
helped  him  di^^'  the  [jfrave.  AVheu  tliey  had  du;jj 
for  some  time,  old  Cokiuhoun  said: — ''Yc  ha'e 
done  enouuh,  laddie.  It\  ower  lieav^'  work 
for  a  bairn." 

^liehael  looked  u}),  and  his  eyes  showed  liow 
sorry  he  felt.  He  stood  leanii.<>'  on  his  spade, 
miwillin^L*'  to  lea\e  old  Col<[i;houn  alone  at  his 
dreary  task. 

At  last  he  inquired: — '■^Vhen  are  you  going 
to  take  Tam  to  town.'"' 
ilus  aiternoon. 

"Would  vou  like  me  to  eome  with  vou,  and 
keep  you  eompany  f 

241 


Tin:  (ii.ouY  AND  Tiir.  I)iu:am 

'■T  woiil.!."'  said  oM  Col'inlioun  ^n-atc  rully, 
'"if  your  rcyllicr  can  spare  yc." 

Midiatl  stood  still  and  silent  till  ('(.!< iiilioi in 
liad  liiiisiial  llic  .L-Tavc.  TIhh  llir  latU  rsaid:— 
"Xoo,  laddie,  ye've  lieli>ed  me  Ihn.ii-li  tills 
sail"  lask — " 

"1  oidy  did  a  little  lut/'  said  Micliael. 

"Ye  Iklped  !Me  l>y  liein^'  here.  H'  I  bad 
l)een  alane — l»iil  nno,  ye  iiiaiiii  riii  liame.  liut 
first,  I  ',v;nit  'e  to  prnniisr  me  sountliin,!;-." 

'•ril  promise  you  ai.ylliin,L>'."  said  Mieliael. 
"You'-e  my  greatest  friend,  except  lather  of 
course,  and  111  never  like  any  one  as  well." 

"Xa,  na.  Ihafs  no  what  1  ask,  nor  ^v]lat  Til 
tak,"  said  old  Cohiuhoun.  "That  Xieder 
maun  always  he  elos-r  to  ye  than  ony  auld 
mon.  Ye've  played  wi'  him  sin'  ye  were  liaith 
weans,  un(-  ve  uill  till  you're  men,  and  there's 
nae  bond  like  that.  It's  soinelimes  closer  than 
brothers." 

"I  do  like  Xieder  just  as  well  as  if  be  was 
my  brotber,"  said  Mieliael.  "rerhaj)s  it  would 
be  more  trutbful  to  say  that  you  and  be  botb 
are  my  best  friends." 

242 


TKAUS  I\  MOHTAL  TIIINC.S 


"Come,  cnnu',  T  (litm:i  fnulc  sac  lii.uli  as  that," 
said  old  v'()l(|iili(nni,  Iiis  own  \\  liiiiisical  siiiiU.' 
hi'caklii,!;"  out  owv  Ms  ^ritl"  I'wri'owcd  Tat'c. 
"Wlial  al.oot  Mr.  .laiif  Dovrf' 

'"I  like  yen  c\cn  i'<tk'i-  than  Iiiin,"  said  Mi- 
duul.  slow  I}-,  liut  (k'id(clly.  '"lie  did  iim  his 
sword  tlii'oii^li  Ici)  Sacsaiiai.'j;li  |)olic'('ii'.cii  and 
lu'lj)C'd  iiic  kill  a  lion,  hiil  Ih'  -i  lie"s  not  real  — 
at  least,  J  like  to  tliiiik  of  Iiini  Iteiii;^-  real  in  a 
sort  of  ii  way,  lail  lie's  not  real  like  yon." 

'"Xa,  he's  no  like  nie,"  said  old  C'ohjulionn 
indignantly.  '"I  !ie\(i-  was  sie  a  sa\aii,e,  and 
if  I  had  keen  1  wouldna  iioast  o"t  as  he  does, 
and  elank  nia  sword  sae  Heively." 

"IJiit  Sacsanai^li  polieenien  and  lions  have 
to  l)e  kiHed,"'  said  Miehael. 

"]*erliai)s,  but  there's  ways  and  ways  o' 
killin!  He  doesna  (k)'t  as  if  it  was  a  painfu' 
duty.  But  ahoot  that  promise.  Miehaek  A' 
I  ask  is  that  when  you're  ^vi'  nie  ye'll  still  be 
the  kiddie  ve  are  the  noo,  thou.''li  ve  m-ow  to  be 
a  moil  to  a'  the  worUk" 

"All  rio-lit,"  said  Miehaek 

But  although  ]Miehael  kept  his  promise,  and 


TIIK  GLORV  AND  TITi:  DREAM 

althounb  he  did  not  grow  to  1)0  "a  mon  to  a' 
tlic  M-orld"  f<ir  many  years,  lie  ])eL''an  to  be  a 
man  at  heart  tluil  v  ery  day,  v.lien  lie  learned  to 
o-rieve  ^vilh  other  peoj)le  even  a\]ic!i  his  o^^^l 
Iieart  was  fidl  ef  liappincss,  and  when  his  in- 
visible friends  bad  to  t;ihc  a  stoj)  had:  to  make 
room  for  tliose  of  ilesb  and  blood. 


THE  END 


24i 


